One Girl in all the World
by wi11der
Summary: Buffy Summers gave her life to save the world. Four months later, a desperate chance to bring her back fails at the last moment, leaving the future in doubt. Trying to fill the void, both Slayer and Woman, is the Buffy-bot. No matter how hard she tries, can an artificial machine ever be a substitute? Buffy AU - story diverging from 'Bargaining' onward.
1. Chapter 1: Never Be Exactly

**Author's Note: I was always intrigued by the scenario presented in the first episode of Season Six of Buffy. Suddenly the slayer who had been at the centre of all the main characters' lives was just gone. The group dynamic had to change entirely to adapt to continue to fight evil, whilst teaching Buffybot how to try and replace Buffy to some degree - but all in mind of Buffy returning, never really accepting her loss. Change the outcome of a tenuous ritual - and an entirely different path might form. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to leave a review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters, all credit to Joss Whedon.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Never Be Exactly

"_We just can't have her messing up in front of the wrong person," Giles explained kindly, as the Scooby Gang briskly walked towards the cemetery gate. "Or the wrong thing. We need the world - and the underworld - to believe Buffy is alive and well."_

_And I will therefore fix it," Willow assured him, frustration creeping into her voice. "I got her head back on, didn't I? And I got her off the knock-knock jokes ..."_

"_Ooh! Who's there?" Buffy-bot asked with breathless excitement, her almost perpetual smile extending into a cheesy grin._

_None of the group looked at her. Giles shot Willow a questioning look, whilst Spike merely closed his eyes, resigned._

"_You know, if we want her to be exactly…" Xander began, before Spike swiftly cut him off._

"_She'll __**never**__ be exactly."_

"_I know," Xander agreed, not even stopping to note how rare it was that he and Spike would share the same mind on anything, let alone Buffy._

"_The only really real Buffy - is really... Buffy." Tara added sadly._

"_And she's gone" Giles finished, widening his strides and vanishing ahead of the others._

_Buffy stopped._

"_If we want her to be exactly - she'll never be exactly, I know the only really real Buffy is really Buffy  
and she's gone who?"_

_No-one answered her._

* * *

Sunnydale was burning.

The chaos had turned cars into shrivelled husks, the upholstery still spilling choking fumes into the air as the windscreens cracked violently under the intense heat. Trash flooded the streets and sidewalks besides mournful, wrecked storefronts, the horror harmonised in the distance by the echoes of screams. Gangs of Hellions demons, identified by their goblin-like ears and repulsive orange skin seemed to patrol every street-corner, ravaging every house, shop or human they could find, revelling in the ecstasy of destruction, pain and terror they left streaming in their wake.

"That doesn't belong to you." Buffy said sternly, stepping towards the nearest invader, her hands placed firmly atop her hips.

The bald, tattooed demon turned away from the shop-window it had just smashed, fixing her with a loathing grimace of sharp, narrow fangs. Without uttering a word, the creature raised its face to the sky and let out a visceral screech which tore into the air all around her, summoning its fellow creatures from out of doors and alleyways, from rooftops and broken windows.

As their imposing leader began to approach her, a growl low in his throat, several of the other leather-clad demons encircled her menacingly, bats and chains clenched firmly in their grasp.

"Slayer…" the leader drawled, holding each syllable as if savouring a foul flavour. "I've been hearing interesting things about you…"

"I am interesting," Buffy agreed. She took in her surroundings, glancing at each of the demons around her. "Are these your friends?"

"They're my boys yeah…" he answered cautiously, fixing her with his dark crimson eyes.

Buffy was glad about that. Spike, Dawn, Willow – even Giles had been avoiding looking at her in the eyes recently. She couldn't understand why. If even her enemies wouldn't look at her, something must be really wrong, and she'd have to go to Willow right away.

"Good," Buffy decided. "Tell them to get on their loud bicycles and go back to wherever they came from."

"Or what? You'll electrocute us?" The leader asked mockingly, before promptly striking Buffy hard across the face, driving her backwards into the grasping arms of his underlings.

"Hold her!" He ordered them, once again stepping within a breath's distance of where Buffy stood restrained.

Suddenly, vicious, jagged three-inch blades erupted from his fingers, and as if in response his smile became a sadistic grin. He slashed Buffy hard across the chest, revealing the silver metal and blinking green and red components below her skin.

"You're nothing but a toy," He baited her. "A pretty toy…"

He leaned in closer, so far that her olfactory systems could detect mixture of alcohol and decay in his breath.

"Wanna play?" He asked sadistically, reaching out with his clawed hand as if to stroke her face.

The time was right to slay. With lightning speed, Buffy struck the demon between the legs with her knee, causing him to double over sharply with a grunt. Before he had a moment to recover, she flipped over backwards, kicking him in the face as she spun through the air. The other creatures which had held her firm lost their grip on her as she moved, and Buffy knocked each of them to the side effortlessly.

"I would," Buffy answered politely, "but you injured me. I have to report to Willow."

So, the fight began in earnest. The Hellions tried to attack her all at once, but Buffy either dodged the wild swings as they came in, or moved with the enemies' momentum, driving them to the ground. Several well aimed punches and kicks cleared the dozen demons from her path, and she sped off down the road. She had to see Willow.

"Get her!" The battered demon leader shouted wildly at his minions, thrashing one arm against the ground he was lying on. "RIDE!"

Willow was nearby. Buffy could always find her; ever since the wicca had overridden her location program. Therefore, it wasn't long before Buffy sprinted off the Sunnydale road, diving through bushes and snapping several branches before bursting out into the cemetery.

It wasn't just Willow. Tara, Xander and Anya were there too. They knelt in a circle, candles cradled between their hands. Buffy had no clue why they were here. Willow hadn't told her anything about it, which she always did - whilst Buffy was activated at least. Within a few milliseconds she reasoned that it must not be anything important.

"Willow!" She called out helpfully. "I need service!"

Something wasn't right with Willow. She was engulfed in a spinning torrent of sanguine flame, which span upwards in a great column ripping into the sky. Buffy was almost sure this wasn't normal. It wasn't in her program files. She barely had a second to process the information however, before she detected the roar of the hellish motorcycles, crashing through the undergrowth behind her. Buffy sprang away from the group, trying to keep the demons from trampling her friends.

She had barely travelled a few metres before the demons started to circle her on their bikes, driving dirt into the air wherever their tires ravaged the earth beneath them. Suddenly, Buffy heard a shattering sound, and Willow collapsed to the ground with a scream, falling out of the scarlet pillar which vanished as soon as she hit the ground, unconscious. The bikes continued to separate Buffy from Willow and the others, driving her further and further away. Between the menacing forms of the mounted demons, she saw Xander scoop Willow up in his arms, disappearing into the undergrowth.

Her programming was starting to freeze up. She had to return to Willow – yet Willow was not conscious, and therefore could not repair her. If Willow could not repair her, she was not permitted to slay – unless they were stopping her trying to reach Willow.

One of the demons struck Buffy's face whilst mounted.

"I'm dangerously close… to system failure! I have to disengage from…"

Another one of them struck her in the shoulder. Buffy's mind was beginning to overload

"From… combat until Willow can service me!"

The leader finally emerged into the cemetery, his vehicle roaring cruelly in harmony with the others.

"I'll service you toy-girl!"

With that, the Hellion cast a rattling chain from one hand, wrapping itself around Buffy's leg and tearing her roughly from her feet. As the demons began to leap from their bikes and pummel every inch of her body, all Buffy could think about was where her friends had gone.

As her navigation and detection systems began to confuse themselves, she saw a pointy-eared shadow pass over her.

* * *

"Say hello to your new home boys…" Razor growled, spreading his arms and basking in the victory. Behind him, an old pick-up truck was entirely aflame, increasing his presence ten-fold in front of all his men as their bikes formed a circle around him. The burning, rusted drums which were haphazardly placed around the main pyre almost gave a ritualistic impression.

The home of the slayer herself was his now. They would hunt every human in Sunnydale, take their pleasure from them – chase them down for sport, and eventually ride out – the legacy of their deeds lying out behind them for a mile in every direction.

The Hellions gang raised their torches in triumph, crying out with joyous exaltation. It was time for a speech. He didn't feel the need – or the want at that – to give them very often, but he was in that special stage of drinking and slaughtering where his thoughts were all clear. And it never hurt to remind them who had provided all this.

"This here is a momentous occasion. The beginning of a new era. Now, no question the open backroads and highways have been good to us, but we got ourselves a juicy little burgh just ripe for picking... And I ain't in no hurry to leave. Are you?"

Another resounding cheer went up from the crowd, with several of the Hellions roaring their engines in salute.

"So I figured what better way to kick off our semi-settling down than with a little christening..."

He signalled to Mag and the other riders with a nod, who began to snigger, attaching the chains to the rear of their bikes.

"A symbolic act commemorating the new order around here... And ridding ourselves of any not so  
pleasant reminders of the old..."

Razor drew out a thirty-eight-calibre revolver, brushing off the dust and loading a bullet into the chamber as the crowd looked on hungrily.

"All in one, quick, really _really _violent, fell swoop." He smacked the chamber closed as he finished, as if to emphasise the message. "Gentlemen…. Start your engines!"

Razor paused for a moment as he looked over at his prey. As his eyes bore into her pathetic female frame, he felt the ache in his jaw and his groin resurface. He would enjoy this part most of all. Each one of the toy's limbs was tied to a different motorcycle, each poised to ride off in a different direction.

A grimace spreading across his pock-marked face, Razor pulled the trigger.

* * *

It didn't exactly hurt. Buffy couldn't feel pain after all. Yet she found the sensation of being ripped apart on all sides rather disorientating, nonetheless. Right up until the last moment she had expected to see Willow, Tara, Giles or Spike come to her aid, as they had every time during her allotted slaying periods. She kept her eyes on the entrances to the parking lot, but no-one arrived to help. It left her more confused than anything else.

After the bikers lost interest in laughing at her broken body, there was quiet for a while. Buffy couldn't move, only listen to the crackling of the flames from the nearby rusty drums or the desiccated truck. For the first time, Buffy had to just wait. She couldn't follow her programming, or report to Willow – and her shut down command appeared to be malfunctioning from all the damage she had taken.

She could only wait, and think – as best as her programming allowed. She thought about her sister. She thought about Spike. And even more than either, she thought about Buffy. Not herself that is, but the other Buffy. The Buffy that had come before.

Eventually, the sound of another motorbike approaching broke through her thoughts. Buffy lifted her head slightly, trying to make out who it was who had returned for her. Then, she smiled.

"Dawn," the robot acknowledged, her eyes widening slightly. "You're my sister Dawn…"

Dawn looked at her with an unfathomable expression. At first, her lips curled upwards in a smile, but then fell again in less than a moment. Buffy's empathetic programming did not prepare her for such an immediate contradiction.

"Tsk. Look what those filthy buggers 've done to you…" Spike said simply, lifting one of Buffy's dismembered legs and turning it over in his arms, preferring to cast his eyes over the mangled mess of pipes and wires which poured out of the upper thigh than look down at her. After a few moments the vampire cast the limb aside callously.

"I am damaged. I need to return to Willow!" Buffy informed him helpfully, creasing her brow in concentration. "But I can't walk. I need you to take me Spike!" Her shoulder spasmed and sparked as she spoke, and her neck began to twitch if she tried to move more than her face.

A strange look crossed Spike's sharp features. "Willow's slap and paste job's not gonna do the trick this time." He looked over at Dawn. "Robot's done."

"No," Dawn insisted, running a finger through Buffy's golden hair. "No…"

"It's just a machine, Dawn." Spike soothed her, placing a hand on the young girl's shoulder.

"I know!" She snapped at him, before her voice dropped to a whisper. "I know…"

Dawn continued to caress the machine's hair, trying to cling to the last remnant of Buffy that remained to her.

* * *

_The kitchen was filled with morning smells. Buffy was vigorously lathering peanut butter and jelly onto an ever-growing castle of prepared sandwiches, whilst Tara worked at the stove behind her. Buffy enjoyed watching the pile grow higher and higher, knowing that each one she made would make her friends happy._

"_Morning!" Willow greeted them, raising her eyes to Buffy's. Buffy grinned, returning the greeting with her usual enthusiasm._

"_I was thinking we could go over your programming again," Willow began, before Tara politely interceded._

"_Again? You've done all you can, sweetie. She's either ready to face this thing or she's not."_

_Dawn swept into the room, seating herself on the opposite side of the table to Buffy and starting to pick at the fruit and orange juice laid out for her._

"_Who's going to eat all that?" Dawn remarked, furrowing her brow as she finally noticed the slightly leaning edible fortress which had begun to loom over her menacingly._

"_Oh," Tara apologised "Oops. She wanted to help. I got her started but then I forgot to un-start..."_

_Buffy nodded in understanding, though Tara quickly set about removing Buffy's building materials nonetheless._

_It wasn't long before Xander joined them, swaggering through the rear door; toolbox in hand. He seemed only too happy to receive the eight sandwiches Buffy placed in his grasp with an eager smile._

"_So… what brings you here your 'macho-ness'?" Willow asked dryly, as Xander greedily inhaled the first of the sandwiches._

"_I got that soldering wire you wanted. For Buffy-bot's tune-up."_

_Buffy liked that. Her friends were always thinking of her. They often spoke of how much they missed her. Even when she was there!_

_The phone began to ring._

"_I'll get it!" Buffy volunteered, rushing towards the phone-hook gleefully._

"_No!" the three other women shouted, Willow placing herself between Buffy and the ringing. _

_The smile fell from Buffy's face._

"_It could be my dad," Dawn explained, choosing to address Willow rather than Buffy. "He said he'd call today."_

"_I'll just say hello!" Buffy assured them, her smile tentatively creeping back alongside a series of tiny nods. "He's my biological ancestor!"_

_Dawn and Willow looked at each other, but said nothing. Buffy didn't understand._

_It was Anya. Buffy didn't know what the 'thing for tonight' they were discussing was, but it didn't matter. She trusted Willow. She was a witch after all, and also gay (1999-Present)!_

_After Willow had finished speaking, she turned to face Buffy once more._

"_Maybe you should just let the machine - the... other machine - get the phone from now on, okay?"_

_Buffy's eyebrows shot up in concern. "Is my phone manner not correct?"_

"_It's perfect," Tara assured her softly, seemingly sensing her sprouting disquiet. "It's just… we can't take the chance that Mr. Summers might talk to you and know something's wrong."_

_Something's wrong. The thought did not make Buffy happy. What was wrong? Was she wrong?_

"_If he thought that the real Buffy was gone, he could take Dawn away." Xander added, his serious tone only somewhat upset by the surviving segments of sandwich still in his mouth._

_The other Buffy. The 'real' Buffy._

"_And I want to stay here," Dawn told her. "With you and Willow and Tara. Understand?"_

_Buffy nodded, grinning earnestly once more. "I do! I want you to stay as well. You're my sister!"_

_Buffy crossed the room around the table, and enveloped Dawn in a vigorous hug. Dawn seemed to hesitate for a moment before she returned it, placing her hands on Buffy's arm, gently caressing it with her thumb. _

_Buffy was happy again._

* * *

Spike only watched Dawn try to lift the bot for a handful of a seconds before he gave in. He made a show of rolling his eyes before putting her torso over one shoulder, and scooping up what remained of the rest of her shattered form with his free hand and passing them to Dawn.

"Do me a favour will you, and keep your mouth shut." He ordered the robot callously. Last thing I need right now is you flapping your plastic gums…"

"Anything for you Spike," the bot assured him in a familiar tone which immediately set his teeth on edge.

He hated the machine at moments like this. He hated everything she was and represented, right down to that stupid grin spreading over her face like a disease whenever she looked at him. She reminded Spike of his lowest moments, exposing his twisted obsession before the people he hated. Worse still, she reminded him of everything he would never see again; Buffy. The real Buffy, not this metal and plastic whore-bot who couldn't navigate her way from one thought to the next without a roadmap.

"Spike?" She asked him a few moments later, the word strangely slurred as he balanced her in front of him on the motorbike.

He exhaled forcefully. "I thought I told you to shut –"

"I'm tired..."

The world fell away from her, and Buffy fell silent.

* * *

"Just ... How are we supposed to fight these guys?" Anya asked in exasperation, looking desperately around the main room of the Magic Box at the other Scoobies. When no-one interrupted her, her frantic plea continued.

"I mean, we can handle a vampire or two, sure, but we've got a cavalcade of demons here. This is... It takes... I mean, we need..."

Xander knew exactly what she was getting at. "Buffy."

"Buffy?" Willow repeated, her face contorting as tears of frustration began to moisten her green eyes. "Buffy is _not_ coming back. We failed."

A silence, thick with dread and the truth of their situation swiftly filled the room. They had failed. It was only just beginning to sink in that she was really gone. Every day for months they had planned to bring her back, and even through their recent doubts Willow had held them true to their course. But it was all for nothing. They had failed, and Sunnydale was paying the price.

"So... We're it, gang." Willow stated matter-of-factly as she stood, swiftly trying to pull herself together for the others' sake. "Xander, grab some weapons. We're going to find Dawn and Spike."

* * *

"Evening all," Spike announced with wry cheeriness, bringing the motorbike to a stiff halt before leaping nonchalantly from the saddle, the Buffy-bot under his arm. "Nice night for walking around in alleys, huh?"

"Spike," Tara replied, a combination of surprise and relief. "How did you know we were here?"

Spike narrowed his eyes, his mouth opening slightly in disbelief. "Oh, I'm sorry, where else in this bloody town do you people go? And its not like any of you have had a social life since…"

Spike paused, lowering his eyes to the floor for a moment. "You're predictable, get over it. Now shove off out the way."

With that, Spike barrelled passed the group, storming back towards the back entrance to the Magic box. Dawn followed close behind him, shooting a sympathetic smile at the slightly cowed Scoobies.

"Yknow, I'm pretty sure we voted to put her in charge," Xander blurted out, pointing his arm towards Willow. "cause I sure as hell don't remember giving emergency powers to 'General Spike' over there…"

Willow simply sighed and folded her arms, before leading the remaining Scoobies inside. She was too tired to fight, and she'd lost enough for one day.

Tara prised open the blinds ever so slightly, peeking out onto the street beyond the shop window. She could see at least four demons, chucking books out of the opposite building's shattered store window, only to be swallowed by the ravenous fires waiting on the sidewalk.

"I d-don't know how safe we'll be here. These guys don't seem like they're going to go away."

Spike turned to Willow. "Can't you just, yknow, create a bubble around the store? Like you did back in the Glory days with those Byzantine wankers" He stretched out his fingers into an expanding bubble shape to emphasise his point. "Force-field thing"

"I – I don't know. I'm kinda running low on magical energy right now. The incantation back there was… pretty intense."

Dawn shot Willow a quizzical look, but the conversation quickly moved on.

"Well why can't she do it?" Anya pointed out bluntly, gesturing to Tara. Tara's face dropped to the floor in response, twiddling her fingers awkwardly as the room's attention shifted entirely onto her.

"I-I mean I could, probably," she stuttered. "I mean I'm not as powerful as Willow but… but well I don't know the spell off-hand"

Xander raised a hand. "Can't Willow just… tell you the words?"

Willow gave him a slightly withering look. "There's a lot more to magic than just knowing the words Xander…"

"Well… we are in a magic shop, right?" Dawn piped in. "Couldn't you find the spell around here somewhere?"

"Good to see at least the little bit hasn't dropped her brain somewhere along the way tonight.." Spike remarked coldly, grabbing a book from the round table and shoving it roughly into Xander's arms. "Get started."

"I guess interrogating books isn't really your specialty, huh Spike?" Xander shot back as he slumped into the nearest chair, and began to flip it open.

Anya quickly rushed behind the checkout to find the inventory, whilst Dawn sat beside Xander, picking up another book from the table. Willow tried to focus on her breathing, trying to centre herself. She moved her gaze steadily over the shop, taking in their current situation, until something demanded her attention. It was the Buffybot, or rather, what was left of it. Spike had left the remaining head and Torso leaning against one of the shelves, equally inanimate as the Buddha head and a row of small, brightly coloured figurines just above her. At its feet lay a collection of shattered, severed limbs.

"Jeez, what happened to her?" Willow asked, wiping a dishevelled lock of red hair from her eyes.

"Ripped her to bloody pieces is what happened. Brutal like." Spike answered from across the room, before moving to shove one of the nearest shelves in front of the main entrance.

Moving as though every step cost great amounts of energy, Willow crouched down beside the damaged robot, examining each of the dismembered limbs in turn.

"Can you do anything for her?" Dawn asked, raising her head from the enormous leather-bound tome.

"I'm sorry Dawny…" Willow began softly. "But this isn't just a case of correcting a glitch in her programming, or replacing a damaged component. I just don't think there's enough left to work with."

Dawn shuddered, letting out a small sigh. "Yeah. Spike said as much."

"Her major systems still seem pretty intact." Willow continued, trying to comfort the younger girl somewhat. "It looks like the damage just drained her batteries, yknow, power leaking out through broken wires."

Anya looked up from the inventory book for a moment, the look on her face clearly articulating that she and an idea had started an argument. If any of the others had been idle enough to notice they surely would have braced themselves. She flipped through the ring-binder frenetically, before placing a finger about half-way down the page.

Anya waved Willow over, before leaning over the cash-dispenser conspiratorially.

"You remember April?" Anya asked, making a series of small, energetic gestures with both hands and head as she spoke. "The robot that creepy little dweeb Warren built. The one that threw Spike threw a window?"

Willow nodded, trying to hide a small smile at the memory.

"Well, I just remembered. After Buffy shut her down – she brought her here. Guess she didn't want to explain to her mom why she'd brought a sex-bot home. Probably. She's down in the basement somewhere."

"Okay…" Willow began sceptically. "But what does that have to do with… Oh! You think if we took parts from April – we might be able to rebuild the bot."

"Sorry to have to point it out," Xander said, raising a hand. "But look out there – the word's out. I think its pretty clear they know that Buffy…. Isn't around anymore. What's the point?"

"Well, apart from Spike – she's our only real fighter." Willow suggested, turning to face Xander.

Xander closed his eyes for a moment and smiled. "Thanks Wil. What's left of my masculinity is swiftly fleeing the premises…"

"Plus, she would make a very good distraction whilst we run away!" Anya added chipperly.

"Not to mention," Tara added patiently, taking her place beside Willow. "If we… yknow, win? We're still going to need someone to cover for Dawn."

Dawn nodded vigorously, casting a glance over to the bot.

"Alright then," Willow said, raising her wearied voice slightly to attract everyone's attention. "Tara, Anya and Dawn – keep looking through the spell books. Xander, come help me find April. Spike?" She asked, turning to the bleach-blonde vampire, patrolling the store window restlessly.

"Yeah?" He asked disinterestedly, not even turning around.

"Just… keep moving heavy stuff."


	2. Chapter 2: Not Your Fault

Chapter 2: Not Your Fault

The air in the basement was thick with the smell of dust and age.

The yellow light of the bulb flickered sleepily into life, illuminating the shelves of jars, scrolls and artefacts which surrounded Willow and Xander on all sides. Not a single surface was free of organised clutter, doubtlessly arranged in a system only Giles could fully comprehend.

"Maybe you should have brought Anya down here instead of me..." Xander suggested, clearly intimidated by the sheer volume of magical junk all around him.

"Nawh, how hard can it be to hide a five-foot robot?" Willow asked sweetly, though her sheepish expression suggested she already knew.

A perhaps not-so-surprisingly long while, as it turned out. Boxes were shifted, cupboards searched, and during the ordeals several delicate items were caught from falling to their doom by Xander's suddenly astute reflexes, presumably motivated by the thought of Anya's wrath putting the fear of D'Hoffryn into him. Willow moved somewhat slower. She tried to hide it from Xander, but the resurrection ritual had drained far more than merely the scope of her ability to cast spells. Though making the effort to take charge only a minute or so before had got some adrenaline pumping through her, it had already faded. Now staying awake seemed like all the exertion she could handle.

Eventually, Xander lifted a thick woollen blanket from the back of a large closet, letting out a breath of satisfaction as he saw the robot leaning against the back panel.

"Bingo," Xander called out, scratching the back of his head in relief. He quickly shifted the assorted merchandise between him and the robot, clearing the path for him to carry her upstairs. He reached out his hands to get a grip on her, but after placing them on April's hips for the briefest of moments recoiled them awkwardly, and proceeded to try and find the proper, respectful way to lift her.

Willow watched on in amusement, leaning backwards onto a wooden crate. "Xander… she's not real. You don't need to worry about chivalry"

"I know… it just… seems a little strange is all." He took a deep breath before trying again. "Okay… come to…"

Xander let out a startled cry as the robot promptly fell on him.

"_Simulacrum Portare!_" Willow recited quickly, and with small wisp of green light emanating from her hands, April began to levitate a few feet above the ground.

"I'm okay – I'm okay!" Xander stated, seemingly as much to himself as to Willow, rolling out from under the floating body. "She's a lot heavier than she looks…"

"Smooth," Willow shot back, before she stumbled trying to rise from her leaning position. Her body felt heavy, her limbs dead. With a hefty crash, April collapsed onto the ground.

"Wil?!" Xander asked, his voice thick with sudden concern.

"I'm… I'm fine," Willow whispered distantly as Xander helped her slowly to her feet. "Let's just get back to the others."

* * *

"That's it!" Tara cried out, grasping the book Dawn had swivelled towards her on the table.

"Just in the nick of time, looks like" Spike announced from the window, now barricaded with whatever furniture was to hand. "Our demon friends out there seem to be getting a bit antsy"

"Antsy?" Dawn questioned.

As if in answer to her question, a bright flash of light detonated against the outside of the window, sending the screams of fractured shards of glass flying into the Magic Box alongside the initial, deafening roar.

Spike had hurled himself to the floor, whilst the remaining Scoobies ducked behind the round table, Dawn unable to restrain herself from letting out a shrill scream in the meantime.

As Spike sprang to his feet to intercept the first of the Hellions Demons who were now trying to topple the piled furniture that kept them at bay, Anya urgently crawled across the shop floor towards the training room.

Tara quickly realised she was out of time. Crossing her legs under the table, she blocked out the chaos of the world around her. There were only her breaths, and the pathways of magical energies that flowed through and beyond her.

"Enemies, fly and fall, circling arms, raise a wall!" She chanted in a building crescendo, first stretching her arms wide apart before slamming them back together. The barrier grew around Tara like the surface of a lake, expanding outwards in every direction with the sound of an unyielding gale. At first it seemed as if it might collapse under its own weight, great hollows appearing erratically in its surface, hindering the bubble's growth. Yet Tara clenched her eyes shut, once again trying to drown out her fears, allowing herself to be a conduit without doubt or anxiety.

The barrier responded, bursting out once more and flooding every corner of the room. The two Hellions Demons who had managed to clamber over Spike's barricade, who now stood in hand-to-hand combat with the bleached-haired vampire were suddenly flung back out from where they had come with startled cries, landing amongst the book-fires they had fed to bursting only minutes before. Within moments however, the creatures had managed to smother the flames that had begun to burn through their thick leather jackets with hungry delight, and began to charge off down the street towards their waiting bikes.

Spike's vicious smile suddenly turned to a curse on his lips.

"Bugger" he breathed, vaulting over the bookshelf without a thought before the barrier intercepted him, knocking him flat on his back amongst the wreckage of his barricade.

"What's wrong?" Dawn asked him, climbing out from under the table. "I mean – the spell worked, didn't it? We're safe now."

"That it did love," Spike told her, brushing off the dirt and dust from his long leather coat. "Bit too bloody well as it turns out. What do you think those half-wits are going to do now we've let 'em escape eh?"

"Well… wouldn't they leave? Once they realise they can't get in here."

Spike let out a snicker. "Hellions demons? Nah. You've gotta know how they think – they're territorial demons – and this, this is Slayer territory." He explained, starting to pace back and forth. "Likely as not they'll set up a nice little camp here. Hang around for a while. It's what I'd do. Hell, its what I did do, back when this all started." He paused. "Good times…"

"Spike?" Tara interrupted, shooting him a slightly disapproving glare.

"Hmm?"

"The point?"

"Ah, right – yeah. Well likely as not they'll be around a while – it's a status thing. Once their boss finds out there's a place with a powerful enough witch to take out a few of his lads, well…"

Spike spread his hands.

"How long?" Dawn asked, worry and fear bleeding into her eyes. "How long will they be here?"

"However long it takes for the message to sink in. Or at least until it gets boring. How many people live in Sunnydale?"

"Thirty-eight thousand." Willow told him, emerging from the basement door, holding Xander's arm for support. Her skin looked pale and pallid, and the circles under her eyes had darkened further. "Give or take a few hundred."

"Long enough," Spike surmised bluntly, clearly noting Willow's state but choosing not to remark on it. "There's enough sport to keep 'em busy for a while. Hellions Demons aren't the most creative blighters, but still."

"Well… the barrier worked then," Xander stated optimistically. "How long can we keep it up this time?"

Tara locked eyes with Willow. "Not as long as last time. Four hours, maybe five. I-it kind of depends on what _they_ try to do to it"

Willow nodded sluggishly. "No time to lose. I'd better get to work on the-"

"No way Wil," Xander cut in. "You're taking a time out."

"Hey, I'm in charge remember!" Willow reminded him. "And… we don't have time for a nap right now."

"We're going to make time," Tara told her, with an uncharacteristic note of steel in her voice which seemed to catch everyone's attention. She crossed the room to take Willow's arm from Xander.

"I-I can take her from here," she informed him softly, and Xander's grip released in response. "I'll set her down on one of Buffy's training mats."

Xander and Dawn watched them head into the back with some concern. Appearing out of the gloom, Anya squeezed past the two witches obliviously, an axe in one hand whilst laboriously dragging a large wooden chest behind her with the other.

"Where are they?" Anya demanded, raising her axe. "I got the weapons. You know, to kill with."

Xander just smiled and gave her a thumbs up. "Good job honey. You can uhhh, you can put down the sharp things now."

He noticed Anya's jaw had dropped as she first saw the destruction which had wrecked her store-front.

"Any time now Ann."

Xander gave up. "So," he began, turning to Spike and clapping his hands together. "You gonna go carry that robot up here or?"

* * *

Buffy awoke.

Her vision was clouded by static and distortion, and her ears rang with a deafening whine. After a few moments, she thought she could make out a familiar voice, and colour began to paint the clearing images.

"Willow," Buffy stated simply, seeing her friend seemingly tinkering with something around her temple.

"Hi there Buffy," she said with a tired smile. "How do you feel?"

"Willow," she repeated. "Where did I go?"

"Go? You didn't go anywhere silly. Your battery just got a little low. Well, actually all the way low. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Spike," Buffy replied dreamily, causing Willow to raise an eyebrow.

"Before Spike…" she clarified.

"The demons tied me up," Buffy explained with a slight pout. "you couldn't fix me, so I got all confused. Then I fell over."

Willow sighed, turning to face someone behind her. "Okay, this time I should really fix that part of her programming…"

"I-is that a good idea?" Tara's voice asked. "I mean, we've already added so much to what she was meant for, yknow? Couldn't this just make it… you know, worse?"

Willow shook her head. "I wouldn't be adding any more programs, just maybe let her choose between them a little more",

"Can she do that?"

Willow shrugged. "There's a lot about Buffybot's central processor I still don't really understand Tara. But she can ask questions and stuff, make some kinds of choices. I'm sure with a little work we can tweak it a little more."

"Willow?" Buffy asked, creasing her brow in concentration.

"mmm?"

"I still can't move."

"Oh, well don't worry Buffy, we haven't finished fixing you just yet. I just wanted to check your power systems, and make sure everything's okay up here." Willow said with a grin, tapping Buffy's forehead.

Buffy raised her eyes, attempting to see what Willow was pointing at.

"Your cognitive functions," Willow clarified, and Buffy nodded in understanding.

"I'll just need to switch you off again for a while. Don't worry, before long you'll be as good as…" Willow hesitated, seemingly unable to finish the sentence. "You'll be fine Buffy."

Buffy heard a switch flick, and then nothing.

* * *

"_Willow!" Buffy cried, as her friend walked through the door, knocking over a table whilst trying to rush towards her. Spike half-dived to catch it before the china vase atop it fell swiftly to its doom, just as Buffy promptly headbutted the living room wall instead._

"_What happened?" Willow asked, grabbing Buffy's arm and guiding her back into the room. "Where's Dawn?"_

"_Dawn's fine." Spike reassured her, noticeably moving to avoid Buffy's touch as Willow guided her unsteady path towards the couch. "She's upstairs in bed. But it seems the bot here got into a scrape while she was on patrol."_

_Buffy nodded in agreement. "I think my feet are broken."_

"_Looks more like a short in the navigational system." Willow corrected her, sitting Buffy down before turning to Spike. "Can you get me the flashlight? It's in the kitchen."_

"_She wanted to go out again and look for you," Spike began, wandering towards the kitchen. "But I figured there are enough things in Sunnydale that go bump in the night..."_

"_Good thinking," Willow called out approvingly, as she began to inspect the damage on Buffy's cranial components._

"_But my homing device locates you when I'm injured. I'm programmed to go to you!" Buffy reminded her, concerned at the contradiction._

"_I know." Willow acknowledged, lifting Buffy's shirt and opening the panel on her lower torso and plugging in her USB. "Still, just this once it was a good idea to stay put. Spike was right."_

_That made sense. It was Spike after all. Buffy turned to look at him again as he handed the flashlight to Willow. She couldn't help but smile._

"_I'm sorry I questioned you Spike." Buffy apologised sheepishly. "You know I admire your brain almost as much as your washboard abs..."_

_Spike's eyes slowly dropped to the floor. Raw pain seeped unmistakeably into his expression, and his hands tightened into fists. Buffy felt something. Something… wrong. She knew that much._

"_I told you to make her stop doing that," Spike demanded of Willow, refusing to look at Buffy any further._

"_I did. I mean, I thought I got all that stuff out of the program-"_

"_Well, you've got her opened up - fix it." Spike told her curtly._

_Willow was right. Buffy was largely aware of the changes in her programming, but she still remembered, remembered how she began. With Spike._

"_Sure. I mean I've got a lot of work here… but I'll see what I can do." Willow assured him._

_Buffy's eyes followed him as he left. She wanted to know, to understand exactly what had changed between them. He had liked her once. He had wanted her, and more than anything she had wanted to please him. Her purpose had changed, but her past had not._

"_Can you point the flashlight here?" Willow asked him, before finally noticing Spike vanishing out of the door. "Spike?"_

"_Did I say something wrong?" Buffy asked._

"_No, its not your fault." Willow replied, only looking Buffy in the eye for a moment before continuing to modify her code._

"_I think Spike stopped liking me," Buffy admitted, traces of distress leaking into her voice. Willow stopped. She looked at Buffy for longer this time, surprise written on her face._

"_No, that's not true…" Willow tried to assure her, blinking rapidly as she spoke. "He thinks you're swell."_

_Buffy decided to probe a little further. "Then how come he never looks at me anymore? Even when he's talking to me?" There was a plea in her eyes._

"_He just gets cranky." Willow told her dismissively. "Like vampires do."_

_Buffy trusted Willow. Yet her response did little to allay her fears. He did not think she was swell. He wouldn't look at her, couldn't bear to touch her. Buffy was about to tell Willow so, but she didn't get the chance before her friend got there first._

"_Now just relax," Willow instructed her, as Buffy began to feel the new streams of code rewriting her system. "I'm going to make you good as new." _

"_I promise I am."_

_Buffy smiled at that, though she wished Willow would have looked her in the eyes when she said it._

* * *

"They know where we are now," Xander pointed out, appealing to the other scoobies who gathered around the table. "So its pretty obvious we can't stay here."

"Blatantly obvious some might say," Spike added, lighting a cigarette.

Dawn frowned at him "Won't you set off the fire alarm?"

"Not anymore I won't," he shot back coyly. "I say sod waiting. Grab the robots, grab Wil, sod off somewhere else before Hells' Angels lay siege to the place."

Xander looked at him quizzically. "Weren't you the one who suggested the whole forcefield thing in the first place?"

"That was then, this is now. Long term planning's never really been my thing, mate. Living from moment to moment, that's more my style. Forcefield stopped those demons from having their way with you, so be grateful."

"There's another option." Anya highlighted. "Though after what you've done to my store less than two days since I got it… I don't think any of you deserve to get out of here alive."

"Anya…" Xander implored her. "Please."

She pouted her lower lip slightly. "Fine. There's a trap door in the basement. I didn't want to say it in front of… him." She motioned to Spike.

"Me?" Spike asked, clearly amused. "Why me?"

"You steal things." Anya clarified bluntly. "Now the merchandise is at risk. And its all your fault Xander."

Xander's expression was a fitting combination of bewilderment and resignation.

* * *

The training room had swiftly transformed into a workshop. Willow was knelt over the Buffybot, safety goggles covering her eyes and with a soldering iron in hand. An assortment of tools lay around her, wrenches and screwdrivers facing in every direction. The intact hip and shoulder joints had been taken from April, and were now being evaluated by Willow before she began to steadily attach them to the intact sections of the Buffybot's torn legs.

"Willow, I really think you should still be resting." Tara suggested, concern laced into her voice. "You went through a lot earlier, I saw what that ritual did to you…"

"Tara, I'm fine." Willow replied coldly, before letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry… I just… I just need to do something. If I stop, I'll just start thinking about…" She shuddered slightly. "Please, just let me do this."

Tara took a deep breath, before nodding. "Alright. But take it easy. And the first chance we get, you're going to eat something," Tara threatened her with a pointy finger.

"Is that my toolbox?" Xander asked as the door closed behind him, in a tone which clearly indicated her knew the answer.

"I didn't think you'd mind, given the circumstances," Willow replied, a lukewarm smile on her lips.

"Well, I don't as it happens. But I do happen to remember leaving it at home…" He exchanged a knowing look with Tara.

"I take it that forty-five-minute powernap was a good one, huh?"

"It did its job," Willow replied absently.

"So, how's it all looking there Wil?"

"Well, it's not pretty, that's for sure. But let me tell you, it's not nearly as irritating as trying to get her head back on. It's a lot less complicated."

"That's something then," Xander agreed, rubbing his hands together awkwardly.

"Yeah. That's something." She melancholically echoed. "At least there's one version of Buffy I might be able to fix…"

"That wasn't your fault Willow," Tara assured her, running a hand over her partner's back comfortingly.

"There's really nothing we can do about that urn? There's… no way at all?" Xander asked her, and Tara just shook her head.

"She's gone." Tara almost whispered, as if by saying the words she could break the spell of shock which still held them all.

Xander only allowed the silence that followed to hover for a few moments before feeling the need to fill it.

"So," he began, trying to rouse himself from the grief which festered within. "The rest of us have been trying to come up with what to do next."

"And whatcha come up with?" Willow asked, clearly trying to give the same impression.

"Well… the wise and wonderful Spike suggested we just drop the shield and make a break for it before we hear the sounds of Motorhead blaring from outside the walls…"

Willow turned away from her repair work, raising her goggles onto her forehead.

"Xander, you guys have been in there for nearly an hour. Please tell me that's not all y'came up with?"

"Thankfully not," Xander assured her, cocking his head with a jokey smile. "Anya says there's a sewer access down below. Last time I checked motorcycles don't drive down manholes."

"Better," Tara congratulated him. "But can we give it a bit longer? She still needs to gather her strength, and it'll be better for everyone if Buffybot can walk for herself."

Xander nodded. "I'll let the others know."


	3. Chapter 3: The Mission

**Author's Note: Thanks to those of you who have left reviews, I really appreciate the encouragement, and I hope the fic lives up to your expectations – while still hopefully surprising you now and then. Enjoy!**

Chapter 3: The Mission

Although deep beneath the chaos above, the tunnel was far from silent. The distant sound of distorted echoes resonated all around them, as if the crash of a cymbal a mile away was bouncing off a thousand walls before it reached them. Occasionally even a rat would scramble from between concealed nooks in the brick walls, and the regular dripping of water droplets from the world above gave a heartbeat to what lay beneath.

"Where are we going? And where is Giles? This is his shop!" Buffy asked as the scoobies lowered her the final few feet into the sewer.

"Mr Giles isn't here right now Buffy," Tara soothed her, steadying the clumsy walk of the still armless robot alongside Dawn. "He had to go back to England."

"Oh," Buffy blurted out thoughtfully. "But he didn't say goodbye."

"She raises a good point though," Anya interrupted sharply. "Where _are_ we going? Surely anywhere we pop up in this town they'll find us!"

"There's always the outflow pipe…" Xander added comically. "They say early fall is ideal for the last dip of the year…"

"I don't think I know how to swim." Buffy chipped in obliviously, kicking aside a hollow wooden box in her path with an inelegant crash.

"I think we'll pass on that…" Tara declined politely.

"How about my place?" Spike suggested. "Hellions are looking for sport – pretty unlikely they'll look for it in a cemetery. Place is dead."

The scoobies groaned at the pun. After a few moments, Buffy grinned. "I get it! You're so funny Spike…"

Spike didn't acknowledge her.

"He makes a good point," Tara acknowledged to Willow, who gave a weary nod.

"Okay then. We'll make for Spike's crypt. From there we can figure out our next move…"

They continued mostly in silence through the labyrinthine warrens of endless dank corridors, twisting and turning so often that the scoobies was almost certain they were relying solely on Spike's intimate knowledge of Sunnydale's underworld to guide them. Even though the last few months had established a certain amount of trust between the soulless vampire and his human associates, the thought did not sit too well with many of them.

Dawn was almost certain she kept seeing shadows dancing in the corners of her flashlight's beam, but every time she pointed it down one of the many side-passages along their path, there would be nothing. Just a slowly building sense of unease. She made sure not to say anything. The last thing she wanted was for Willow, Tara, Xander and the others to think of her as a child, frightened of the dark. Nor did she want to worry them. It was like Buffy had told her that awful night, just before dawn:

_You have to take care of them now - you have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me._

She glanced over at Buffy - no, the Buffybot - trying to draw strength from the perfect replica of her sister's face. However, at the moment it seemed to be rather occupied, a perplexed focus centred around her lips and eyes.

"Are… are you okay?" Dawn asked her hesitantly.

Buffybot cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. Willow, did you finish fixing my ears?"

"There was nothing wrong with your ears Buffy," Willow told her. "What's up?"

"I don't think we're alone. Do people live down here?"

The gang stopped. Spike turned around ahead of them, looking back with guarded eyes. He lifted his face and sniffed once.

"Shite. Just what we need."

"What is it?" Anya asked tensely.

"Vampires. Move it, come on!"

The group surged forwards, running after Spike.

"I thought vampires…. Stayed above ground at night?" Tara wheezed, struggling to keep up and prevent Buffybot from falling concurrently.

"Normally, they do," Spike explained. "Not much fun to be had in a bloody sewer. My guess is, the boys in denim 'n' leather up there aren't too fond of us vamps… Should have bloody known. Elitist garbage. The less pure demon you got in you, the more 'tainted' you are."

They heard laughter as they ran. Rather than getting closer or further away however, the cackling seemed at one moment only inches away, and then only a distant echo. The result filled the air with uncertain dread.

Just as they thought the sounds had died away into nothing, the group sprinted around a sharp corner, only to find a thick-built, blonde vampire standing straight in their path, dressed in a torn grey suit. As the scoobies all ground to a halt, another two female dark-haired undead emerged from the sides of the tunnel, hissing between bared fangs. Their demonic visages were fully exposed, their almost tiger-like, angular yellow eyes filled with hunger and malevolent anticipation.

Spike released his own demon in response with a shake of his head. "And here I thought I might get through the whole night without a proper scrap…" he drawled hungrily, his fingers twitching slightly.

"I don't suppose you three know the way to the mall?" Xander asked them mockingly, lowering his red toolbox to the ground with his left arm. "I think we made a wrong turn at the last… manhole."

Without so much as a breath, one of the female vampires leapt at Xander viciously. He barely managed to raise Giles' two-handed axe to hold her back before she was upon him, snarling monstrously. Spike was already trading several chaotic, wild blows with the larger male, seemingly thriving on the ecstatic release of violence, laughing with every strike and licking his fangs.

At first, the third vampire stalked around the edges of the claustrophobic conflict, searching for an opening to end the fight. But once she began to smell the fear in the others, she slowly started towards Dawn.

Tara quickly flipped through her mental list of spells that would fit the situation, but as time ran out began to focus on a disorientation spell. However, before she could release it, a boisterous voice called out.

"Vampires, BEWARE!"

With that, suddenly Buffybot was there, driving her foot into the vampire's stomach and knocking the wind - or lack thereof - from her.

"Dawn," She said in her usual warm tone, not taking her eyes off the fallen vampire. "Stay behind me. I'll protect you!"

The words seemed entirely sincere, however probably would have carried a greater sense of gravitas if they hadn't come from a robot without any arms who was currently struggling to maintain her balance from the force of her own kick. At the same time, the other female vampire had driven Xander to the ground, slowly extending her fangs, entirely focused on the flushing skin of his waiting neck. In a moment Anya was there, drawing a stake from inside her blue jacket and ramming it home into the vampire's back. The exalted grin became a scream, before the scream rapidly became the whisper of falling dust.

Spike was still duelling amicably with the larger vampire, however whether that was the natural result, or rather that of Spike lengthening out a fight he was clearly revelling in, was difficult to say.

As the vampire which Buffybot had knocked to the ground began to rise, Tara made a florid gesture with her arm, forcing it to remain prostrate. Seeing his chance, the risen Xander crossed the tunnel. Without a moment's delay, he raised Giles' axe before swinging downwards as if he were chopping lumber, decapitating the undead creature in one stroke.

Xander eyed the axe appreciatively. "I see why Giles likes this thing…" he whispered to himself, as he swiftly moved to check around the corner from which they'd come. He got there just in time to see a few shadowy figures slinking back into the distant side-passages, clearly aware from the sounds of the battle that their hopes for an easy meal had just been dashed.

Finally satisfied, Spike shattered the last vampire's kneecap with a well-aimed kick, before trapping him in a headlock and breaking his neck with a sickening crack. In spite of herself, Dawn couldn't help but retch slightly.

Tara folded her arms, unimpressed. "You couldn't have done that in a way that wasn't so…. Graphic?" She asked, rubbing the top of Dawn's back reassuringly.

Spike placed a hand to his forehead, which had returned now to its more human-like state. He lowered his arm, glancing at the blood left on his fingers with a cheeky half-smile. "He wasn't exactly making it easy for me love."

"How much further?" Willow asked, the weariness still plain in her eyes.

"Not too far now." He assured her civilly. "Hopefully the wannabe 'Big Bads' will get the message and stay out the way for a while…"

* * *

Climbing the final few rungs of the uneven stone hand-holds, Dawn pulled herself into the dimly lit chamber. She had been to Spike's place before, quite a few times actually, but she couldn't recall ever seeing this part of it.

Whereas the upper level was just an ordinary crypt, albeit with a cushy armchair, standing lamp and television set giving the place a paradoxically homey feel, this place was different. It looked as if the entire space had been roughly hewn from rock, though the thick, wooden roots which ran down the walls made Dawn wonder if this had perhaps once been a natural cavern. Another standing lamp stood a few metres away, and further still Spike stood lighting a few candles resting in rock crevices, casting flickering, warm light on both his face and the surrounding walls. He had wired several other bulbs in little clusters on the ceiling, though how Spike managed to get electricity down here Dawn had no idea.

Whilst Tara, Willow and Xander helped Buffybot ascend into the room, Dawn continued to explore. As she approached Spike, she caught sight of a large, luxurious even, double bed, fully adorned with pillows and soft furnishings. Dawn couldn't help but smile. She had always imagined that Spike slept on the raised central stone slab in the crypt, cold and foreboding as any corpse. Picturing him now in the bed robbed a great deal of his alluringly tough image.

The look Spike gave her when he realised precisely what she was looking at suggested that was probably exactly why he never brought her down here. Drama queen.

She shot him a wicked little smile as she sat down on the end of the bed, crossing her arms knowingly.

"I know this place," Buffy said as she walked, grinning and nodding at both Willow and Tara located either side of her. "Spike and I used to spend time here." Willow lowered her eyes for half a second before they darted uncomfortably to Spike, but Tara just smiled at her with a few patient nods. At the mention of his name, Spike turned to look down at Buffy. Dawn couldn't see the expression on his face, but she could guess what it was when the smile dropped from Buffy's face entirely.

"I'm sorry." she said simply, in a tone that caused Dawn's heart to wrench slightly in her chest as Spike stormed away, climbing up a wooden ladder to the crypt above.

Seeing her always brought the pain of Buffy's death to the forefront of their minds, and poor Buffybot could never hope to understand why they acted the way they did. Perhaps that was a blessing in itself, in some ways.

Dawn rose from the bed, following Willow and Tara as they guided Buffybot to the corner where Xander and Anya had begun to lay out the tools and metal parts they would need for the repairs.

"Can I help?" She asked Willow cautiously.

Willow smiled at her. "Sure thing Dawny. An extra pair of hands would be swell."

* * *

Willow looked up as she pulled herself into the crypt proper. Facing diagonally away from her, Spike sat in his armchair, swigging heftily from a bottle of Bourbon as he stared dully at the flashing images on the hazy television screen.

"It's nearly sunrise," Willow stated, getting the vampire's attention. "Dawn's sleeping, but before we all get a bit of rest, I thought we might have some, yknow, planning time?"

"What did you have in mind, red?" Spike asked her, without turning around.

Willow blinked. "Oh, I don't know…" she joked. "I thought maybe getting rid of the horde of nasty demons taking over Sunnydale might be a good start!"

Spike swivelled his head around to look at her. "You sure about that?"

Willow looked puzzled. "Do we have a choice?"

"Yeah," Spike shot back at her. "You got a choice. Leave."

"The cemetery?"

"The town Wil. Whole bloody state come to that. Why are you even still here?"

Willow was taken aback at that. "We're… fighting evil. Vampires, the end of the world; that kind of thing… you know that,"

"You chose to stay here… because of Buffy. Don't try and lie to me – I'm not blind. You've got the best brain in a fifty-mile radius, you could go to any college you wanted – you and the missus down there both. Take Dawn with you, even carpenter boy could get a job pretty much anywhere else."

"I don't know if you've noticed Spike, but we're not done here. The Hellmouth is still pretty active…"

"And it always will be! Nearly every week some new 'big bad' rolls into town and tries it on – and sorry for saying so… wait, no I'm not sorry…. Your days are numbered. If it isn't the Hellions Demons, it'll be something else. Take a hint – go."

Willow froze for a moment as she took in what Spike had said. Awful as it was… he had a point.

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked him finally.

He sighed. "I couldn't save Buffy. I nearly did, but I didn't. Instead, I've been looking after Dawn. Trying to keep her safe – like Buffy'd want. But you know what the best way to keep the little bit safe is? Getting her off the sodding Hellmouth. None of you are the slayer, even the poncey Watcher spewing on about destiny and all that crap has got on a plane and left – and frankly I find it laughable he didn't even suggest you lot do the same!"

There was silence for a moment.

"And what would you do?" Willow asked, which seemed to catch Spike slightly off-guard. He chuckled to himself softly.

"Well, I've got pretty good digs right here! Steady supply of demons to fight – butchers who don't ask a lot of questions when you ask for a few pints of pig's blood. Occasional apocalypse helps to keep things interesting too."

Willow cast her mind into the past, back to the time when she first made the decision to stay in Sunnydale. Staying to support Buffy was certainly a part of that choice – a large part at that. But it wasn't everything. Staying in Sunnydale to fight evil – it gave her purpose, a sense of meaning she had come to realise was more than she ever could have imagined for herself. Tara had felt it too, as had Xander. They didn't need to ever say it explicitly. Their joint commitment had made them a family.

She suppressed the rush of fear at leaving her magical identity behind. That wasn't what mattered, it was more than that. It was the mission.

"I'm sorry Spike," she said, an apologetic smile on her lips. "It's not that simple. What we do here… it matters. We make a difference to people here. It's the right thing to do. We're staying."

Spike just shook his head with a snort. "I'll say this… You've got guts Wil. Mad as the moon, but still."

He rose from the chair, patting Willow twice on the shoulder in quick succession.

"Come on then, we 'band of buggered' have got to plan our latest suicide mission."

* * *

"So, these Hellions guys…" Xander started, gesturing animatedly with his hands. "Do they have any weaknesses – Crosses, Troll-hammers, the screams of a nineteen-year-old Buffster…"

"Pendant breaking, holy water, bunnies…" Anya added helpfully.

"I'm not sure that's the r-right way to think about it," Tara suggested timidly. "From what I saw – they weren't all the same type of demon. But they're all part of the same gang though, right?"

Spike ruffled a hand through his hair thoughtfully. "Might be on to something there," he complimented her. "Had my dealings with a fair few gangs in my time."

"Anything useful?" Willow asked.

"Well…" Spike considered. "Gangs 've got a structure to 'em. Tribal like. Toughest bugger of the lot tends to get to the top. Gives all the orders. Get rid of him…." Spike spread his hands.

"They might all get on their bikes and skedaddle on out of town…" Xander finished, illustrating with an emphatic point.

"That, or they'll spend so long killing each other to decide who's in charge they'll forget all about you worthless sods. Yeah, we get a few deck chairs, put 'em on the roof of the town hall and watch them tear each other to pieces. Place a few bets, blood 'n booze – and we've saved the day! Hooray for the good guys, eh?"

The other scoobies just stared at him coldly. Even Dawn raised an eyebrow.

"Alright fine. Just trying to get myself to give enough of a piss to risk my life for you sods... again."

"Question is," Xander raised, swiftly moving the conversation past the briefest of awkward silences. "How do we figure out which of the boys in black is pulling the strings?"

Dawn cleared her throat. "Well, there's one other person who might have a better idea."

When it was clear no-one had quite caught on to what she was saying, Dawn cast her eyes meaningfully at the deactivated Buffybot lying on the cave floor.

"Oh boy…" Tara said, with some trepidation.

Willow had seemingly finished her repairs whilst Dawn slept. Both of the bot's arms had been re-attached firmly to her shoulders, though in place of the missing skin across her shoulder joints, Willow had wrapped layers of white bandages to disguise and protect the bare metal underneath, and she had done her best to do the same to her hip joints and the shredded jeans below them.

"Want to do the honours, Dawny?" Willow invited, twiddling her hands nervously.

Dawn nodded, crossing to her robotic sister and opening a small hidden panel on her torso.

"Is it in here?" Dawn asked, looking over the panel of lights and components.

"Not quite," Willow corrected her, kneeling next to her and closing the panel gently. Dawn watched as the older girl reached around the back of Buffy's head, though she couldn't quite make out what Willow was doing behind the mess of golden hair. "That should do it."

Dawn almost immediately felt Buffy twitch, and within moments her eyes snapped open.

* * *

"Dawn?" Buffy asked, looking around with a slight frown.

"Yeah Buffy, I'm here." Her sister replied. "How… how do you feel?"

Buffy lifted both of her arms simultaneously, wiggling each of her fingers methodically.

"My arms… They're back." She observed with amazement, as she used them to lift herself into a sitting up position.

"Yeah Buffy," Willow told her with a smile. "You're all back together again – best as I could manage anyway…"

"That's good," Buffy observed with her usual optimism, breaking into a familiar smile. "Did we beat the bad guys?"

"Not just yet," Tara broached softly.

"That is to say… Not as of yet" Xander announced a moment later, causing the entire group to stare at him oddly. "Yeah… what she said."

"Then I should go slay them." Buffy decided, starting to rise to her feet before Tara put a hand on her shoulder.

"You will Buffy, but we just want to make a plan first…"

"Ooh, can I help?" Buffy asked with verve, her eyes widening.

"Yes. You can." Anya chipped in, folding her arms. "We want to know what their leader looked like. The demon one. Did you see him?"

There was a dramatic little silence for a moment as Buffy cocked her head in thought.

"Yes. I did see him." She remembered, nodding emphatically.

Sighs of relief sounded all over the room.

"Well okay then Buff," Willow began with a swing of her arm. "What did he look like?"

Buffy squinted slightly, running through her memory files, conjuring up an accurate picture of the demon and running it through her communication program.

"He was tall!" Buffy told them. "I did not enjoy smelling him."

Spike groaned, dragging a hand down the side of his face, whilst Xander just bit his bottom lip and lowered his gaze. Tara and Dawn kept smiling though, nodding at Buffy encouragingly.

"Do you remember anything… more specific?" Tara asked, brushing a lock of stray hair from falling into her face.

Buffy tried again, running through the unpleasant memories of her capture.

"His ears were pointy. His eyes were dark red, and he had a black mark on his forehead. Oh, and he has very sharp claws. I think the others called him 'Razor'. He wore a jacket like the others, and he had a white man on his shirt."

"There we go!" Dawn said with triumph, turning to the others.

"Not the worst start," Xander acknowledged, rubbing his eye sleepily. "What do you say the rest of us get some shut-eye before we sort out the rest huh? It's been a long night."

"No argument there…" Willow agreed. She looked around the sparsely furnished cave with concern, before casting an obvious glance at Spike's enormous bed.

"Spike?"

"hmm?" He replied with disinterest, before he picked up on Willow's signals.

"Could we just…"

"No… no way. I'd be getting the smell of you lot out of here for days. Weeks!"

Willow gave Spike a pleading, almost puppy-like expression, pouting her lip slightly. He stood sternly, refusing to back down for several seconds before shaking his head and letting out a resigned sigh.

"Fine. Whatever. Only because we need you on form when we get out there. Don't want you getting your Latin twisted and accidentally turning us all inside out."

Willow smirked at him victoriously, and behind her Tara stifled a laugh.

* * *

Buffy elected to stand watch over her friends whilst they slept. For a while she paced around the entrance to the tunnel to the sewer below, keeping watch for whatever might rise from beneath.

"You okay?" Dawn's voice asked from behind her, causing Buffy to halt her circular patrol.

"Oh, hi Dawn. Why are you not sleeping?"

"I got some sleep earlier. When you did."

"I'm glad. Sleep is important! You should get at least seven hours of sleep a day."

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Anyway, what's it like for you – when you sleep I mean."

Buffy cocked her head to one side, her face perplexed. "I don't understand."

"Like, do you dream? Or do you see lots of lines of code, yknow like the Matrix or something…"

"No," Buffy answered her.

"Then what?" Dawn pressed, seemingly more curious still.

Buffy thought for a moment, struggling to articulate the concept. "I go away for a while. I'm in one place, then I wake up somewhere else. I don't really like it much."

Dawn frowned. "Have you told Willow about it?"

"No. I'm sure Willow knows what's best. My programming says so." Buffy assured her. Willow knew best after all.

"You don't always have to do what she says you know. It's okay to have your own thoughts on stuff."

Buffy nodded slowly, her face once again thoughtful.

"Spike and I are watching TV upstairs," Dawn continued. "I just wondered… if you wanted to join us?"

Buffy's smile wavered.

"I should keep watch here. In case something attacks the others."

"That probably won't happen." Dawn dismissed. "Spike says vampires tend to leave each other's lairs alone. It's a courtesy thing. Apparently. So, will you come?"

"I'd like that," Buffy admitted. "But I don't think Spike would." She hesitated slightly. "He doesn't like me anymore."

Buffy thought about what Dawn had told her a few moments previously. "Willow says he does – but I think she just doesn't want me to worry."

Dawn's eyes widened in surprise. "That really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Is that wrong? I don't think I'm supposed to."

"No, no it's okay," Dawn assured her, putting a hand on Buffy's sleeve. "I just didn't know you c-, I mean I didn't know you thought about that kind of stuff. It's okay, we can watch something when we get home. When all this is over."

Buffy smiled. "I look forward to it."

Dawn started towards the ladder, but as she placed her foot on the first rung she looked back at Buffy.

"Let me know okay, if you need anything."

"I am fully functional," Buffy assured her. "I have enough power for eighteen hours."

"That's not exactly what I meant." Dawn replied cryptically, before bidding farewell with a small wave.


	4. Chapter 4: Challenge

**Author's Note: Than you again to those of you who continue to leave such lovely reviews - I hope you feel free to keep letting me know what you think. Enjoy!**

Chapter 4: Challenge

The moon rose over a horizon of blood.

Razor brought his bike roughly to a stand-still, kicking the support into place as if it were a disobedient dog. He lifted his gaze to the metal sign hanging below the venue doorway, ensuring it was the right place.

_Bronze._

Satisfied, Razor dismounted, signalling for the two of his boys trailing behind him to follow. The club was saturated with the taste of victory. From behind the bar, three gang members were distributing the spoils, two of them freely pouring beer into waiting glasses from stocky metal barrels, the other throwing bottles of spirits into the crowd surrounding them.

Beyond, the stage was filled with cheering demons, looking down at the space below them with absorbed enthusiasm. Half-way between Razor and the stage, an elevated metal walkway similarly teemed with spectators.

His curiosity aroused, the gang leader began to shove his way towards the front – at first through force, although as soon as the Hellions released who it was who was wading through them they made way for him like royalty, sparks of fear in each of their eyes. When he finally found himself at the front of the crowd, he discovered that a circle of floor-space had been cleared directly in front of the stage, empty except for two figures circling each other at the very centre.

Mag acknowledged Razor with a respectful nod as soon as he was aware of his presence. His left wrist had a thick iron manacle wrapped around it, which in turn was connected to a hefty chain. At the other end of the chain, a bruised human male was equally bound.

Razor's maw broke into a smile.

He had seen the game before of course – many times over. The chain was just long enough not to impair the movement of each fighter blow for blow, although if either party attempted to pull away from the other, they would inexorably drag the other with them. This method of duelling served a number of useful purposes beyond adding an extra dimension to the fight itself, however. From the moment the opponent was bound, they realised that any attempt at escape would be entirely pointless. But more than that, the chain binding both parties gave a sense of equality to the duel – giving the condemned a sliver of desperate hope which ensured they fought fiercely to the end.

As for the duel in front of Razor, well, that hope was waning. Each of the human's blows were becoming slower and clumsier, deflected by Mag with a carefree ease which seemed to drive his opponent into a greater and greater frenzy, driven by the terror of a growing realisation. As the human charged forward again, Mag took out his legs from under him, letting him writhe in pain for a moment, then placed both hands on the chain, swinging his opponent above him in a great arc before slamming him mercilessly into the ground.

The crowd cheered, satiated as two fellow Hellions moved in to untie the wrist of the limp Human's body, dragging him towards the back entrance. Whether he was already dead or still clung to life by his fingers didn't matter. He had served his purpose, and there were plenty more where he had come from.

* * *

The Scoobies snapped to attention as they heard the door to the crypt swing open and closed, and as Spike began to casually descend the ladder. The look on his face as he turned to face the circle of expectation was not particularly amused.

"Either you lot back off, or I kick you out and you're on your own, alright?"

"Sorry," Willow apologised, as the group took a step or two backwards. "So, what did you find out?"

"Well, my usual sources as scattered, as you might guess. Lucky for you I happen to know a thing or two about staying unseen."

Xander look as though he was about to make a snide comment, but rather quickly decided to keep it to himself.

"Bulk of 'em seem to 've shacked up at that club you all used to love so much…"

"The Bronze?" Xander asked in surprise, before the corners of his mouth began to rise in spite of himself.

"Makes sense huh?" Willow added snidely. "I mean, where else is there in Sunnydale?"

"Did you happen to see the leader?" Tara asked.

"I didn't actually go in you know…." Spike answered, a long-suffering expression on his face. "Like I would just walk into a club filled to bursting with vamp hating demons – I'm not a complete moron. That being said, I did happen to see them dragging a body out into the alley. Looks like they've already started on the locals - if you take my meaning."

There was silence for a moment.

"So how do we get in there?" Anya asked bluntly. "I mean it's not like the leader is just going to come out to us if we all ask nicely?!"

"Why not?" Buffybot asked innocently, causing a number of sighs and awkward glances to emerge from the other scoobies.

"Buffy…" Tara began, only to be interrupted as Buffy continued.

"He _really_ doesn't like me."

"But back to the point…" Anya began, stopping herself as she saw Xander raise a hand.

"Wait a minute," Dawn suggested, turning to Buffy. "What are you saying Buffy?"

"I think she's saying if we get her outside the Bronze, this guy Razor might come out to her," Xander deduced. "that right Buff?"

"That's a terrible plan," Anya stated, slapping Xander on the arm. "Xander! Why are you considering the terrible plan?"

"Hang on a sec," Spike considered, "Bot might have accidentally stumbled on something. Big man keeps his lackeys in line by showing how tough he is, right? Calling him out on it might cause the git to do something rash…"

"What, you think Buffybot could goad him into a one-on-one?" Willow asked. "That's way too dangerous! I only just finished putting her back together and now you want her to just go and knock on the door and ask for a fair fight?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist red, we won't do it like that."

"What _are_ you suggesting then?" Willow shot back sternly.

"I-is there any way we could bring him to us?" Tara asked softly. "Have the fight on our own terms I mean?"

Spike lowered his head, a half-smile on his lips. "Be nice if we could play it that way, not sure h-"

"Stragglers." Xander blurted out suddenly, and all eyes fell on him. "These Hellions, they're not like an army right? They're a gang. There's gotta be a few stragglers here and there right?"

"Right," Spike followed sceptically.

"So, we find one; have Buffy rough him up a bit – then send him packing to his boss," Xander explained, a cunning twinkle in his eye. "Buffy makes sure to drop the fact she's the slayer into the fight somewhere, and bait the gang leader to come get her" Xander turned to face Tara with a smile. "Somewhere we decide – thank you Tara."

She returned it, whilst the other Scoobies looked at each other thoughtfully for a few moments.

"It's a slightly less terrible plan." Anya admitted. "But have you thought about what happens if he turns up mad as hell with a horde of gun-toting demons just waiting to shoot holes in our soft waiting flesh?" She finished, stopping for a moment to catch her breath.

"My Anya, always the optimist..." Xander highlighted dryly.

"So we just pick somewhere we can make a quick getaway if it doesn't turn out the right way," Willow compromised. "We just have to find the right place is all…"

"That being said," Spike interjected, "This is likely the best chance you'll get to take these guys out. They won't fall for this stunt twice. It's either this, you lot bugger off out of Sunnydale, or get comfy down there in the sewers for a couple years and start picking 'em off one by one."

"Guerrilla warfare…" Xander whispered almost in awe, nodding slightly as he did so.

Willow narrowed her eyes, scrutinising her oldest friend for a moment. "Xander… You're thinking about 'Apocalypse Now' aren't you?"

"Absolutely not," Xander denied with a nervous lilt, "Not at all."

* * *

"I am not staying behind," Dawn insisted, crossing her arms petulantly.

Tara looked at the younger girl sympathetically, placing a hand on her upper arm. "Dawn…"

Dawn pulled away from her touch. "It's not like I'm going to be any less safe with you than anywhere else in this town,"

"It's pretty unlikely they'll find you here Dawnster…" Xander pointed out earnestly.

"You don't know that!" Dawn stopped herself, trying to collect her thoughts. "Look, I get it – you guys want to keep me safe. Maybe I'm even a liability or something. But I'm going to have to learn sometime, right? How old were you guys when you started fighting demons?"

"And you will Dawny," Willow assured her, "Just… just maybe with something a little less…"

"Bonkers," Spike clarified, giving a dismissive wave as he wandered away from the conversation.

"You promise?" Dawn asked, raising her eyebrows.

Willow shared a glance with Tara for a second, before turning back to give Dawn a small smile.

"Promise."

Finally. Dawn had made it no secret she despised the others around her perceiving her as nothing more than a little kid, someone who always needed saving and protecting. Losing her mother, and then her sister, the latter whom had given her life precisely because of Dawn had left her utterly devastated – but also reaffirmed her certainty that she was done standing behind others for protection all the time, being utterly helpless when evil came to her door. Next time she didn't want it to be Tara, Spike Xander or Willow to be the one to die because Dawn couldn't save herself.

Almost out of habit, Dawn's eyes were drawn to the Buffy-bot, standing somewhat apart from the other conversing Scoobies. Having got what is was she wanted from this conversation, Dawn quickly excused herself with a smile and walked over to her.

"How you doing Buffy?" Dawn asked.

"I am the same." Buffy stated plainly. "But thank you for asking!"

Dawn thought back to their last conversation, and the genuine worry she saw in Buffy. "Aren't you a little nervous about all this? The others are saying it's all pretty risky…"

Buffy shook her head. "I'm sure it will be fine." She said vacantly. "Willow is very smart, and I trust all of my friends."

"Yeah but… this 'Razor' guy – I mean he really hurt you last time."

"Don't worry about me Dawn." Buffybot reassured her innocently. "I am the Slayer. This is what I do. It's what I'm for."

Dawn forced a brave smile at the lie. "You're right. Hey, do you think when all this is over, you might be able to teach me a thing or two about, yknow, fighting and stuff?"

A look of confusion passed across Buffy's face. "I thought we were going to watch TV?"

Dawn's eye twitched. "After that."

Buffy's expression deepened into a slightly conflicted frown.

"I'd like to help Dawn. But I would not want to hurt you. You are my sister! It's my job to keep you safe."

"I'm sure you wouldn't" Dawn assured her, and Buffy's answering grin seemed to wash away the robot's doubts.

"Alright then. But can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How do I teach you?" Buffy asked, wide-eyed and lips parted.

Dawn sighed. More and more as she talked to Buffybot she was coming around to understanding what it was like to have a baby sister rather than an older one.

As Dawn's focus returned to what was in front of her, she noticed Buffy's gaze suddenly seemed distant, her face almost thoughtful.

"Giles was my teacher. But Tara said he's gone."

"Oh," Dawn replied cautiously. "You only just heard about that, huh?"

"I think it's my fault."

"Buffy…" Dawn started, shaking her head.

She was suddenly interrupted as Spike approached, stopping just in front of the bot.

"Here," he said brusquely, shoving a small pile of clothes into Buffy's hands. "If you're gonna go around playing Slayer, you should at least try to look the part."

Buffy's face lit up like a sunrise. Much like a child having received her long-awaited birthday presents, Buffy began to breathlessly examine the soft red leather jacket, turquoise loose-turtleneck pullover and black jeans. It was a heart-warming sight, though Dawn hoped Buffy wouldn't take too much hope from a single thoughtful act.

Dawn held the jacket for her while Buffy dressed. As she turned it over absently in her hands, she noted a small white design on one of the lapels. She couldn't help but smile at the little unicorn as she handed it back to Buffy, who promptly wrapped the coat around herself with aplomb.

"Are these clothes more correct?" Buffy asked, clearly hoping for Dawn's approval.

Dawn nodded reassuringly. "You look nice. And fierce, of course. Those demons won't stand a chance." She hoped that was true.

Buffy quickly looked over to Willow, who also gave her a friendly thumbs up.

"Alright gang," Willow called out, signalling the scoobies to attention. "We'd better get started."

* * *

Razor puffed softly on his cigar, allowing the smoke to fill his mouth with the usual subtle rush, before slowly exhaling the fumes through his nostrils. He leaned against the metal railing of the walkway high above the floor of the Bronze, looking down on his new kingdom below. Razor knew that this was only the beginning. After the Hellions gang finally rode out of the desiccated husk of Sunnydale, there would be rivals determined to bring him down. Razor's prestige would be greater than it had ever been amongst demons, and power invites challenge. Still, a small part of him would feel reluctant to leave this place. Razor had heard of Hellmouths of course, places where the boundaries between the earth and the Hell dimensions were particularly thin – weak spots where demonic entities could bleed through on occasion. But never before had he understood how it felt to stand on one. It was like a distant humming in his ears, a slight reverberation that made his hairs stand on end – the faint rush of energy. It was as if Razor felt a pang of recognition, an echo sent from a place long-lost and forgotten. He shook the thought from his mind. Hell held no interest for him, and he had far more immediate, far more real concerns.

His attention was suddenly demanded by the sound of the metal entrance door slamming against the wall, as a figure stumbled into the Bronze. The lone Hellion cradled what looked like a fractured arm below a dislocated shoulder, before promptly half-collapsing onto the floor. The raucous ambience of the club dampened somewhat in response, as many of the Hellions looked on with various levels of curiosity.

Razor looked on with mild interest. He knew the wounded Hellion by no more than sight, so he was likely no more than a rookie who had accelerated too aggressively whilst turning a corner. If that was the case, then the agony he was quite clearly in would serve amply as his punishment.

"Boss!" the greenhorn cried out, before breaking into a fit of laboured coughs. Razor didn't move, merely lifting the cigar to his lips once more and taking another hit. He watched as Mag ceased his revelry and approached the rookie with approval. Mag always took his duty as second in command to discipline the lower ranks seriously – it was one of the many things Razor liked best about him. That, and that Mag's position in the riding order didn't seem to trouble him, he just wanted to enjoy the ride. It allowed Razor to sleep better at night knowing his closest lieutenant seemingly didn't seek out any ambition beyond his next meal – or victim.

Mag let out a guttural growl, before smacking the rookie's already bruised face with the back of his hand. That caught Razor's attention. The continued squealing remained inaudible however from this distance. Razor watched as Mag turned slowly around, raising his face towards his leader high above. There was an unprecedented uncertainty in his crimson eyes.

"This maggot says the Slayer did this to him!"

Impossible.

Razor didn't even bother to take the stairs. He leapt over the railing immediately; following the split-second of initial surprise. He landed with an indifferent effort on the floor below, storming over to the lying runt and lifting him clean off the ground by the front of his dirt-stained jacket.

"What did you say?!" Razor almost screamed into the rookie's face.

The Hellion's squeals became a whimper. "The… the Slayer… she…"

Razor pressed the scalding butt of his cigar into his underling's cheek, eliciting several more agonised screams from his throat.

"And what did she look like, this 'Slayer'?"

"Kinda short, skinny… blonde hair, green eyes… but she's a lot stronger than she looks.." the rookie wheezed.

That confirmed it. Razor could see deception in any of his men's eyes, and there was only fear of him in this one.

"And did she say anything else?"

"Sh-she wanted me to give you a message boss,"

"Deliver it then!" Razor roared, lifting the rookie even higher.

"She said… she said…" the idiot stuttered, unable to even form a short phrase.

"SAY IT!"

"She said if you want to cause trouble in her town, come face her yourself - at the old High School. If you're not… uhh, well…"

Razor released his jagged finger-blades, pressing them painfully into his victim's neck. "Yes?" he growled.

"A… Coward." He struggled to mouth.

The room went completely silent as the rookie's neck snapped, and Razor threw his limp body across the room, flying over the bar with a smash of breaking glass.

"MAG!" Razor called out with a blood-curdling screech. "Bring me a chain…."


	5. Chapter 5: First Choices

Chapter 5: First Choices

Sunnydale High was a ruin. Two years past, the explosion which had prevented the ascension of Mayor Wilkins had left every window shattered, every wall stained with blackened residue, the indelible shadow of flames. The second floor had half-collapsed into the first, and the roof was little more than a crumpled mess jutting in every which direction. A loose skeleton of scaffolding hung around the structure, suggesting that an attempt to either demolish or renovate the existing structure had begun, only to be evacuated after the Hellions' invasion had flooded the streets with terror and pain.

Razor barely even bothered to decelerate before his bike was tearing up the squares of grass which marked the old school grounds, sending clumps of earth flying across the pale stone walkway which lead to the ruined entrance ahead. Five bikes pulled up behind him, the previously deafening sound of their engines spluttering nervously into silence.

The infection of whispers which appeared to have begun to spread through the gang since the wounded rookie had stumbled into the Bronze had set Razor's teeth on edge. The deeper meaning of this 'Slayer's message had not been lost on him. It was said the Hellmouth itself was directly beneath the school – and now she had challenged him, standing atop the infernal door she had claimed as her own to protect.

"They say the slayer actually stopped an ascension here," a voice whispered behind him, causing Razor's lips to pull back over his teeth in annoyance.

"You're shitting me." Another replied, his voice tense. "No crackpot's been mad enough to try and ascend since…"

"No, no - it's true. Blew up the whole place, killing a hundred blood rats in the process."

Razor silenced their speculations with an icy glare emphasised with a grimace. He wouldn't let this so-called 'Slayer' or anyone else weaken the fist of his authority over his boys. The chain grasped firmly in his hand, he mounted the small set of pale stone steps and strode boldly towards the main entrance.

It was time to end this.

* * *

"Okay… that should do it!" Willow exclaimed, closing the lid of her Macbook with a sense of finality. She reached over to remove a cable and seal Buffy's access port, before quickly ferreting her computer away.

Buffy felt the odd sensation of her code being overwritten, changing her in ways too subtle for her to detect all at once.

"Alright then Buffy, everything still functioning okay?"

Buffy nodded. "I think so."

"Good. I need you to listen to me quick. If you get into a fight with the head demon – you don't need to run to me if you get hurt, alright? I've made some slight adjustments to your central processor – so I think you'll be able to respond to whatever happens out there."

Buffy's expression became more serious as she processed the information. "I understand," She told her friend, trying her best to give an impression of sincerity.

"I'm not going to lie to you…" Tara said softly as she knelt down beside her. "If we're gonna win this, we need you to keep fighting. We need you to really try to win."

"We're counting on ya Buff," Xander added.

Buffy was glad. She had worried that allowing herself to be torn apart by the Hellions Demons, by leading them to Willow in the cemetery had made her a failure in her friends' eyes – it explained why they had left her there after all. Now she had a chance to make it right, to make them happy with her again. To make Spike like her again.

She looked at him for a moment, leaning impatiently against the doorframe leading into the corridor, drumming his fingers endlessly against the charred surface. She smiled broadly at him, but Spike made no sign that he was aware of it.

It was then she first heard the distant rush of engines coming closer.

"I think they're here." Buffy informed the others.

"We'll be right here Buffy – don't worry," Willow assured her sincerely. "I'll be keeping an eye on things too."

Buffy glanced at each of them in turn before she turned to walk out of the former classroom.

"Well, if the bot messes it up – at least it'll give me something to do…" Spike grumbled quietly. "As it is, may as well have stayed home and watched TV with little sis, for all the use I am here…"

* * *

She stood in a wide stance at the centre of the corridor, waiting for her adversaries to approach. After a few moments, Buffy made out several figures storming into the building, half-illuminated by moonlight that seeped into the building through cracks and shattered windows.

"I've been waiting for you," she informed them pointedly, just as the face of Razor became visible from the surrounding gloom. From his hand there dangled an approximately metre-long chain, with a manacle at either end.

"So…" Razor growled acidly. "Are you the real Slayer this time – or are you just another life-sized doll?"

_A toy. That's what he had called her._

"I am the Slayer," Buffy said stalwartly. "You got my message?"

"Oh, I got it alright…" The towering demon drawled. "Strange way of protecting your town 'Slayer', letting my boys take it from you without lifting a finger… and sending robots to do your dirty work."

Instead of answering him, Buffy looked to the few Hellions demons gathered behind their leader. She brought to mind Willow's instructions on how to talk to him. "Are your friends here to fight for you?"

Razor's red eyes scorched into her own, a sickening grimace spreading across his face.

"Oh… I don't need their help to break another little girl. They're just here to bear witness to the second death of the Slayer in Sunnydale… and the last."

"I understand. Shall we begin?"

As if in reply, Razor threw the chain onto the floor roughly. "You had the nerve to challenge my authority, girl. So now we're going to do this the Hellions way."

Buffy was uncertain. Willow hadn't prepared her for this eventuality. What was the correct option? It wasn't in her programming. She creased her brow in thought. Willow had said… Willow had said she could choose. She could make the decision without having to refer to her friends' guidance or fall back on her primary programs.

Buffy chose.

"I accept. What must I do?"

Razor signalled to one of his boys with a sharp incline of his head, who swiftly proceeded to pick up the chain and bind one manacle about his leader's left wrist. He turned a small key, which appeared to seal it closed. Then another Hellions came and lifted the other end, holding the manacle out to Buffy contemptuously, a foul odour on his breath. Buffy gave him her own wrist, but kept her eyes on Razor.

And with that, the two underlings withdrew several feet, and the two combatants began to circle, Buffy following Razor's lead. Neither one of them had given anything away, neither's gaze deviating from the other's eyes, waiting for the other to reveal something, anything.

Razor struck. A lightning-fast blow sped towards Buffy's face, only for Buffy to duck at the last moment and launch a punch of her own towards Razor's solar plexus. To her surprise however, Razor did not so much as flinch at the force of the strike, merely reaching out to grab her wrist, tear it aside with his left hand before launching an uppercut at her head with his right. Just as Buffy began to stumble backwards, Razor yanked firmly on the chain, forcing Buffy forwards before methodically kicking her legs out from under her. Buffy just managed to roll away before Razor extended his maliciously sharp claws and rammed them into the floor where Buffy's chest had been only half a moment before.

Buffy was swiftly becoming aware of a troubling truth; Razor was clearly adept at this kind of fighting – and she was not. In the past her fighting style had simply depended on several styles and forms saved in her memory; techniques that could be executed appropriately in response to an enemy's movement. Yet the addition of this chain, the forced close quarters where every manoeuvre had an additional element, added a new aspect to a fight for which she was not prepared.

Still, she couldn't run. Not only had the chain which bound Buffy made that possibility moot, but Tara had said she had to keep fighting. Her friends were counting on her. Dawn was counting on her.

Buffy pulled up her legs to her stomach, then using the momentum sprung forwards onto her feet. The move elicited a bark of frustration from Razor, who reached for her again with several vicious swipes of his right arm. Buffy quickly swerved out of the way of each stroke, though she felt the tip of his claws slice through the skin of her right cheek with the final blow.

"You know what Slayer," Razor taunted her. "This time I think I'll just hang your head from my handlebars… a much more permanent souvenir, don't you think?"

He struck for her again, and as Buffy raised her forearm to catch the blow, Razor leaned in conspiratorially.

"Do me a favour; smile for me when I cut it off!"

* * *

"What's going on out there Wil?" Spike asked impatiently, abandoning his leaning position in favour of pacing back and forth restlessly.

Willow sat against the far wall; her black eyes blind to the room in front of her.

"It could be better." She replied tightly, her eyes darting over the room; watching a fight only she could observe.

"Bugger this then," Spike decided, making for the scorched doorway.

"Stop!" Willow commanded, her tone giving even Spike pause.

"It'll work out better for everyone if they think the Slayer defeated their leader, don't you think?" Tara suggested gently.

"Don't see why it matters – as long as the big lout snuffs it they'll be tearing each other to shreds for a week."

"But," Willow interjected sharply, clearly straining between the focus of maintaining her spell and the conversation. "If the Buffybot slays him, however these guys found out about Buffy, it won't matter. They'll spread the word; the Slayer is back."

"So what?" Spike derided, "We wait here until they rip the bot to bloody pieces twice in as many nights?"

Willow's jaw tightened. "If we have to."

* * *

"You've already failed Slayer…" Razor mocked her. "How many of your friendly neighbours do you think I've already slaughtered while you.. what? Hid here in the dark?"

He caught the sideways kick Buffy launched at his stomach with a grin. "You must be quite the disappointment."

Buffy's thoughts couldn't help but spring to her friends. To Willow, to Spike, to Dawn. Was he right? What if she was nothing more than a failure to them – that despite everything she wanted, she could never truly make them happy? Never understand the meaning of some of their words. Never say or do the right things. Never live up to the other Buffy. Never be exactly.

Just as she thought the panic might overwhelm her circuits, a reassuring voice surfaced from deep within Buffy's memory.

_Remember your breathing. Think of the breath as… Chi. Air as a life source._

Buffy did not require oxygen to live. But in her moment of building towards an overload, she grasped onto the words, nonetheless. She concentrated on the simple mechanics of the unnecessary breaths. In and out. Nothing else mattered, especially not the words of her opponent.

The technique seemed to give her focus. To win, Buffy had to adapt to the new fighting style. She quickly analysed the last dozen of Razor's attacks, and made her move. Just as Razor moved forward to launch another slash of his claws, Buffy threw herself to the floor, sliding feet-first between Razor's wide stance, yanking on the chain with full force before flipping to her feet once more. Razor only managed a small sound of surprise before his arm was forced after her, driving his face into the floor with a crack, before the rest of the great demon followed suit, leaving him lying face down in the corridor. The cheers of the spectating Hellions had now become a deathly silence.

Buffy watched as Razor lifted his bloodied visage from the floor, spitting out a number of teeth the impact had shattered.

"You're going to wish you hadn't done that," Razor promised, pushing through his obvious pain to force himself to his feet once more.

"I am sorry," Buffy assured him. "But I really do need you to leave."

Her apology merely seemed to enrage Razor further, who erupted into a frenzy of strikes. Buffy dodged and weaved through the most threatening blows, whilst letting her jacket take the brunt of the others. Seeing an opportunity, Buffy caught Razor's right wrist in her hand, before doing the same to his left as he swiped for her again. His eyes narrowing with fury now mere inches from her own, Razor suddenly craned his neck back, before slamming his forehead into Buffy's own.

Buffy heard a muted clang as their heads collided. Razor's eyes seemed to widen with realisation for a moment as he stumbled backwards, only to limply roll back into his skull as his large form collided with the ground.

The other Hellions' jaws almost hit the floor as Buffy turned to face them, smiling through her dazed and hazy vision.

"Now, I do not want to have to say this again." She informed them sternly. "Please get back on your loud motorcycles and go back wherever you came from."

The demons bolted. In their fear, everything in their hands plummeted to the ground as the Hellions scrambled desperately towards the entrance. For a moment, there was only the fading sounds of distant engines, and the gentle breath of the wind.

"Is it over? Like, did we actually win?" Anya's voice echoed from down the corridor, as she peeked her head reluctantly out of the door.

Buffy instinctually began walking towards her friends as they emerged from the classroom, only to be severely slowed once her chain pulled taut with the dead weight of Razor's unconscious form. She doubled back, approaching the spot where the fleeing Hellions had presumably dropped the manacle keys amongst their weaponry.

Just as she dragged Razor far enough to almost reach the keys, Buffy felt a soft hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Tara step ahead of her, bending down to pick up the fallen key.

"Here, let me." Tara offered, holding out her hand in invitation. Buffy accepted, reaching out her own and allowing her friend to unbind her. Instinctively, Buffy searched Tara's face for approval, and as the manacle fell away, the witch met her gaze, answering her silent question with a small, grateful smile.

"Looks like captain skin-disease is still breathing…" Spike remarked. "Want me to finish the job?"

"Hang on a sec," Xander interjected, putting his arm in front of Spike. "Don't you think we should let the T-800 over there finish the job?"

Spike gave Xander a withering look as he crossed over to Buffy, placing Giles' axe in her hands.

Buffy looked over to Willow, who nodded once solemnly.

Buffy approached Razor, still lying comatose on his back. She raised the axe, and swung downwards, a single strike severing head from body. In contrast to slaying a vampire however, the blow caused an excessive spray of blood to erupt from the force of the wound, spurting in all directions. The group looked on, perturbed, as Buffy reclaimed the axe from the dent in the floor.

"That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!" Buffy exclaimed triumphantly, blood streaked across her smiling face, and for a moment the hall was silent.

"Well…" Xander began, once again determined to fill the quiet. "Those words will now burn a horrifying image into my brain until… forever."

"I thought you got her to stop saying that already?" Anya demanded of Willow, who merely raised her arms and rolled her eyes in resignation.

Tara just cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. "Maybe she just likes saying it?"

Buffy's smile just widened into a grin.


	6. Chapter 6: Home Truths

_**Author's Note: I apologise for the relatively long space between uploads. Running two stories at once alongside uni work can be a little hectic at times! Nonetheless, I hope you all enjoy, and as always feel free to leave a review.**_

Chapter 6: Home Truths

After an initial period of stunned silence, Sunnydale slowly began to re-emerge. The emergency services, who always seemed to vanish in the face of the inexplicable, now began to resume their regular duties as if nothing had happened. They - like the rest of the populace - began to either rationalise the last few days' events in their minds, or instead plunge themselves into a routine sense of denial. For the residents of Sunnydale; this was as close as life came to normality.

The sunlight streaming through the slightly ajar curtains roused Dawn reluctantly into consciousness. She pulled the duvet inelegantly over her head, releasing a muffled groan into the soft material. A brief, blurry glance at the alarm clock informed her that Willow and Tara would not approve of her sleeping away her Saturday afternoon. Instead, she rose to her feet and took several sluggish steps towards the window, opening the curtains and gazing down into the street below.

Dawn could see and hear the endeavours of several of their neighbours continuing the week-long battle to repair their vandalised doors and windows. At least it seemed like the majority of the front lawns had effectively been entirely cleared, and the street itself had been pretty well swept two days following the Hellions retreat from Sunnydale, vanishing out of their lives onto the roads beyond.

As Dawn went through the mundanities of the morning routine, she decided that it would be today. Today she would talk to Willow and Tara about Buffy. Soon enough she was rushing down the stairs and into the living room, where the two women sat on the couch, Willow sorting through a collection of mail whilst Tara made notes beside her.

"Hey there Dawny!" Willow greeted her, putting the pile of opened envelopes to one side for a moment. "How's it goin'?"

"I'm okay. Can umm… can we talk for a sec?"

"Of course sweetie," Tara answered her, shifting over to the left and patting the centre of the couch in invitation.

"What's on your mind?" Willow asked as Dawn sat down between them.

"Well… it's Buffy – I mean the Buffybot,"

"Oh," Tara began. "Did she try to cook breakfast by herself again, or-"

"No, no, nothing like that," Dawn replied, shaking her head. "It's just… you'll probably think I'm being crazy or something…"

"No, it's okay – go on." Tara encouraged her gently.

"It's just… I've been thinking. Sometimes, like at Spike's place, the stuff she says... the way she talked about how he doesn't like being around her anymore – it seemed to really bother her. Like, like it hurt her. Like she actually, yknow, felt something."

Tara looked pensive for a moment, but Willow just took Dawn's hand, a look of deep sympathy in her eyes. "Dawny, this has got to be super hard for you. Buffy was my best friend – but she was your sister. It's really not okay that you still have to pretend to the whole world that everything's hunky-dory all the time. It's not fair on you to see something that looks like Buffy walking around all the time, pretending to be her... I can't imagine what that's like. But it's super important that you're clear on this; it's not her Dawn."

"Willow's right," Tara agreed. "It can't help the grieving process – stopping you from yknow, trying to move on?"

"I know she's not Buffy," Dawn insisted, shaking her head. "But still I saw it – she worries about things, she feels things."

"Dawn, let me try and explain a sec. You uhh… you remember what Buffybot was made for, right?" Willow asked carefully.

Dawn aimed a half-smirk at Tara. "Not for playing checkers with…"

Tara avoided her gaze sheepishly.

"Uh huh…" Willow continued awkwardly. "Well, basically… she was created to make people happy, see? Specifically… to make Spike happy. To do that, she can sorta recognise basic emotions – facial expressions, the tone in our voices – but that's all it is. We've changed her programming a lot since then, but that's always going to be like the filter through which she sees things, yknow?"

Dawn pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You really think that's all it is?"

Willow nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. Maybe just try doing what I do – when she seems to be concerned about something like that – just be nice, tell her she's wrong, or its just Spike being broody or something like that. Don't let her dwell. She should forget about it soon enough. Our Buffybot doesn't really have the longest attention span…"

Dawn thanked her, rising from the couch and heading towards the kitchen. Willow immediately reached for the pile of bills once again, but Tara briefly excused herself before heading after her.

"Hey, Dawn?" Tara asked, after catching up with the younger girl beside the kitchen table. "I'm sure Willow's right about all this, but… if you like I could keep an eye on Buffybot? Just to check she's doing okay?"

Dawn crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "You don't sound sure to me…"

"Well…" Tara considered. "I don't know anything about robotics, or cybernetics or anything like that… but I… I know what you meant about her. Just, just try not to worry too much about it over the next few days okay? We want you to hit the ground running when the school re-opens on Monday."

"What are you, my evil step-mother now?" Dawn asked dryly, to which Tara smiled in playful amusement. "Sure. I'll be sure to squeeze in at least _some_ homework every week… promise."

With that, Dawn quickly embraced Tara before running back upstairs, landing back on her bed with a thump. Without so much as missing a beat, she pulled out her journal and began to scribble the first of today's entries:

_Willow doesn't believe me about Buffybot. I don't know if she's right. She may be a super-Wicca these days, and super smart besides – but she doesn't know everything. Not everything._

_I'm going to bring up taking me out patrolling again at dinner. After all, Willow and Tara promised._

* * *

Willow was grateful when Anya barrelled in through the front door, striding into the living room as if she owned the place.

"Hi Anya!" Willow greeted her. "Can we get ya something to eat, or-"

"I only have an hour," Anya blurted out, cutting the other girl off sharply. "If I close the Magic Box for more than one hour, my profit margins are at risk. So… what do you want?"

"If this is a bad time… We could always do this later?" Tara suggested.

Anya sighed, some of the tension releasing from her face. "No, it's fine."

"Something on your mind Anya?" Willow asked. "Cause when there's something on your mind, its usually also kinda… in our ears."

Anya didn't require much persuading. "It's Xander. Ever since the whole… you know, dark ritual in the graveyard he's been…" Anya trailed off for a moment.

"He's been talking about the ritual?" Willow asked.

"No. It's the opposite. He hasn't talked about it. No-one's talking about it – Why? All this time we've focused almost everything on bringing Buffy back – and now it's over… and no-one's saying anything!"

"What's there to say?" Willow asked dejectedly.

"Well I don't know… All I know is Xander's been all quiet these last few days. He just comes home from work and sits down… he barely even wants to have sex anymore…"

"Anya, it's only been three days..." Tara pointed out. "Grief takes a while to get through your system – and it's different for everyone. Why don't you just give it some time?"

Anya just pouted. "And when was the last time you went three days without sex?"

Neither Willow nor Tara felt the need to answer that.

"Oh, so you two have something more important to talk about?"

Willow held up the pile of envelopes. "Money stuff."

Anya's face broke into a grin, her distraught seemingly forgotten in a moment. After a brief explanation by Willow, she moved to the nearby desk and set about sorting the papers boisterously, copying a series of figures onto a blank notebook beside them. As she worked, Willow and Tara looked on uncertainly, until finally Anya turned to face them once again.

"Okay, so. Main problem seems to be the house. It's haemorrhaging cash like… well like a house haemorrhaging cash. What's left of Buffy's inheritance money has been shielding you from it so far – but obviously her mom's medical bills emptied that well pretty thoroughly…"

"How long would you say we have?" Tara asked, taking Willow's hand almost unconsciously.

Anya looked thoughtful for a moment.

"A couple months – as long as you don't send Dawn on some extravagant shopping sprees. Then… well we have a problem. Well, more accurately you have a problem. I'm fine."

Willow cast her eyes to the side in a resigned manner. "Thanks for that Anya."

"Don't thank me. Thank Capitalism!" Anya proclaimed with an obnoxious grin.

After accepting an invitation to dinner before patrolling that night, she brusquely rushed out of the house, barely leaving time to say goodbye.

"Well that was…" Tara started.

"It was." Willow agreed. "I hoped it all just looked worse than it actually was."

"We can handle this," Tara assured her. "There are options – we could find part-time jobs, or maybe just get a loan to cover this next semester…"

"Or…" Willow suggested. "I mean I could… yknow… probably… do a spell and -"

"No!" Tara exclaimed suddenly, dropping Willow's hand and pulling away. "Willow, we can't use magic to solve our money issues!"

Willow frowned in surprise at Tara's strong reaction. "Why not?"

"Because that's a line we can't cross!" Tara insisted. "We can't just use magic in our normal lives to make our problems just go away – that's not what magic is for Willow!"

"But we're not living a normal life!" Willow countered vehemently. "We're looking after Dawn, trying to save our house… Meanwhile, we're working hard to make it look like Buffy's all fine and dandy – and any free time we might use to make some money we use researching and fighting whatever demons roll on into town. It's not about using magic as some quick and easy fix – this is about giving us the time to do what we have to do – to keep people safe Tara!"

Tara rubbed her hands together pensively, her eyes cast downwards. "Maybe that's how it starts Wil. But it's a slippery slope – and I don't like where it leads"

"Well - you're wrong."

Tara raised her eyes to Willow once again, her face full of hurt. Willow reached out an apologetic arm, but Tara just ignored it, getting to her feet and running upstairs. Willow watched her go, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. Why couldn't Tara see it? Magic was a power she had earned, through years of dedication. She'd used it to save countless people – and now she had the power to fix their own problems – and she deserved to have them fixed.

Willow just closed her eyes, and just tried to forget the argument ever happened.

* * *

As Xander and Anya joined Dawn and Tara at the table, Willow carried the immense glass bowl of macaroni cheese in from the kitchen, placing it at the table's centre with a muted clink.

The meal was quiet. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, asking after Xander's latest construction project, Anya's week at the Magic Box, Dawn's latest high school antics and Willow and Tara's seminars, yet the pauses between each subject were tangible, nonetheless. Each of their gazes were downcast, save for during the fleeting snippets of conversation which passed across the table.

Dawn finished pushing the last pieces of pasta around her plate. This particular dinner had never been about food.

"So, guys…" She started coyly, keeping her eyes on the plate. "Can I go patrol with you tonight?"

Everyone's eyes shot up. The fork carrying the last of Xander's third helping froze on the way to his mouth, and Willows fingers began twitching atop the table.

"Well, Dawny…" Willow began. "We talked it over at the last Scooby meeting…"

"And?" Dawn asked with impatient enthusiasm.

"We think getting you started on research might be a better approach," Xander answered, gesticulating slightly with his loaded fork.

"Wait what?" Dawn questioned sharply, dropping her fork onto the plate.

"Dawn, things can get pretty crazy out on patrol," Tara explained softly. "We never know what might be waiting for us out there – we just can't be sure we can keep you safe"

"From death," Anya clarified, emphasised by a series of small, rapid nods. "In a variety of variously horrible ways. Stabbing, biting, mauling… that sort of thing."

"But if we get you started hitting the books…" Xander offered, "you'll start amassing a whole bunch of demon know-how, so when the time comes…"

"You'll be ready." Willow finished with a confident smile, reaching out to take Anya's empty plate beside her and place it neatly atop her own.

Dawn shot her an underwhelmed frown in reply, but nodded glumly, nonetheless.

* * *

Thoughts continued to buzz around Dawn's mind long after she turned out her bedside light. Willow and Tara had promised to help her learn to fight demons – to fight for herself. Sure, helping research was something, kinda, but she was pretty sure whatever she found wouldn't help her much when a vampire jumped out of a nearby alley and backed her against a wall.

_Eugh._

All in all, it was definitely an every-type-of-cereal-raid kind of night.

Silent as a ghost, Dawn slowly inched open her bedroom door, slipping out into the hallway before gliding down the stairs. She was just swerving around into the dining room when she caught something on the corner of her eye.

Turning back around, Dawn blinked in surprise.

It was Buffy.

She was stood in front of the small end-table beside the couch, her head slightly bowed. She still wore her now regular patrolling outfit - the clothes Spike had given her before heading out to fight the Hellions leader. Between her hands was a picture frame which Dawn immediately recognised.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked, slight apprehension in her voice. "What are you doing down here?"

Buffy seemed almost not to notice her, instead moving her right hand so that her fingers were touching the image.

"Buffy?" Dawn repeated, stepping within arm's reach of her almost-sister.

"This is our mother." Buffy stated simply, her eyes not leaving the image.

Dawn nodded solemnly.

"But I do not know her," Buffy admitted, finally turning her head to face Dawn. "Why do I not know her Dawn?"

"Oh. Well… you see – I mean it's-" Dawn stuttered, blinking rapidly as she tried to form the words. She felt a weight in her chest as she tried to answer.

"Was she tall?" Buffy asked. "What clothes did she wear? Was she funny? Did she like peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches? What was her favourite colour?"

She fired off each silly question more rapidly than the last, her words incongruous with the sincere seriousness in her tone and her manner. As Dawn just froze, silent, Buffy stopped.

"She was the other Buffy's mother." She finally admitted. "Her biological ancestor. I… I do not have a biological ancestor as I am not… human. But when I see _this_," Buffy articulated, pointing to the picture once again. Then she hesitated, narrowing her eyes slightly as if she was trying to peer through a blinding fog. "I do not understand. I know she is my mother."

"Buffy…" Dawn finally answered, fidgeting awkwardly on the spot. "It's… it's just a little complicated – y-you shouldn't worry about it."

In her panic, she had subconsciously fallen back on Willow's advice after all.

"Xander called her the real Buffy." Buffy informed her almost sadly. "Am I not real?"

Buffy put down the picture, before raising her hand to touch her own cheek. "Because I feel like I am real. And you are my sister, Dawn."

Dawn started to back away slowly, holding her hands out in front of her. It was too much.

"I-I'm sorry. I can't – I just can't!"

Dawn sprinted up the stairs, her earlier attempts to remain unheard forgotten in a moment. She ran straight into her bedroom, wrenching the door aside and tumbling roughly into her bed. She curled up amongst the chaotic mess of covers and pillows, failing to repress the sobs of grief and hurt which suddenly wracked her. Like Buffybot, she didn't understand either.

"Dawn?"

She looked up to see Tara in the doorway, one hand resting against the side of the door, sleep heavy in her eyes. Dawn raised her tear-stained face, and in response Tara crossed to the bed and sat beside her, wordlessly embracing the younger girl. They stayed like that for a while, until Dawn became more tranquil, and then Tara began to speak to her in soft, calming whispers.


	7. Chapter 7: Going Off-Script

Chapter 7: Going Off-Script

In the briefest of moments, Buffy blinked the night away.

When her eyes flicked open once again, the room was filled with morning light, and Tara was looking down at her uncertainly.

"Morning Buffy," Tara greeted her with a polite smile, unplugging the power unit from her lower torso and sealing her access port before laying the cable gently on the floor.

"Good morning!" Buffy responded with an instinctual grin. "How are you today?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Tara assured her, furrowing her brow. "W-Willow and I wanted you downstairs, is that alright?"

"Of course!" Buffy insisted, sitting up sharply and manoeuvring herself to the edge of the bed. As she rose, Tara placed a hand on Buffy's shoulder, motioning for her to sit.

"But before that – can we talk for just a sec? It's about last night."

Buffy's smile fell from her face as she accessed the relevant memory files. The intense pain on her sister's face. The something she had felt when she saw Dawn flee from her.

"I had a talk with Dawn." Tara explained. "She was… pretty shaken up."

"I know." Buffy affirmed. "She was very upset. I must have said something _very_ wrong."

"Buffy… what were you doing walking around so late?" Tara asked carefully. "It's not like Willow to just forget to shut you down."

"That is true," Buffy agreed. "But lately Willow has been telling me to put myself to sleep. I can do it very easily."

"Oh," Tara replied, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Then why didn't you?"

Buffy paused for a moment. Ever since her final confrontation with the Hellions demons, she had become aware of the extent of her new programming; the choices she could make.

"I did not want to." She admitted finally. "There was something I wanted to do. I needed time."

Tara seemed taken aback at that.

Reading her expression, Buffy was quick to apologise. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again." She promised.

Tara shook her head. "Buffy… it's not that you did something wrong exactly, it's just… I guess we should have expected that you…" She closed her eyes for a moment, gesturing with her hands. "You know what? It doesn't matter right now."

"Is Dawn okay?" Buffy asked.

"Dawn's doing fine." Tara assured her, lowering her hand to place it atop Buffy's. "She's headed out to the mall with Janice– it'll help clear her head."

"I am glad." Buffy informed her. "Friends are very important. But I would still like to make it up to her."

"Well…" Tara considered thoughtfully, "you can help me make dinner later if you want? I thought we might try and make Dawn's favourite pizza for when she gets back."

Buffy's face lit up with delight. "I would like that - very much. Can I bring it to the table?"

Tara smiled kindly at her. "I don't see why not…"

And just like that, Buffy thought everything was alright again.

* * *

Dawn smiled half-heartedly as Janice emerged from the dressing room, modelling the sixth outfit in a row. She made sure to say the right things, echoes of what her friend wanted to hear – her decision having been made before Dawn said a word. Still, Dawn had to play her role – Janice knew all the cool people, so the last thing Dawn wanted was her disapproval.

As Janice vanished into the dressing room once again, Dawn wandered deeper into the store. Passing through the jungle of clothing stands, filled to the brim with attire of every shape and description, she shortly found herself in the jewellery section. Figuring she still had another minute, Dawn eyeballed the earrings, necklaces and bracelets which lay out before her in several open-topped display cases. Absent-mindedly, Dawn lifted a particular silver necklace from the case, approaching the nearest mirror whilst fixing it around her slender neck. Dawn ran her finger along the rose pendant, before beginning to examine the ornate chain decorated with faux-thorns a few inches on each side.

Obeying a compulsion she couldn't quite explain, Dawn warily checked her surroundings. Content no eyes were on her, she undid the catch at the back of her neck, subtlety tearing off the tag before placing the necklace in the pocket of her denim jacket in a single smooth movement.

Dawn felt a rush, felt her heart pumping that little bit faster. The risk, the excitement was like a streak of colour across the grey despondency she had felt slowly growing inside herself these past months. Ever since her mother, and Buffy. Her confrontation with Buffybot the previous night had just brought it all to the forefront of her mind, and after she cried herself out in Tara's arms, she felt the cold once again.

She spotted Janice re-emerging from the cubicle, and so quickly crossed the shop floor to join her friend. Then she smiled, reading from the other girl's face that this skirt was particularly chic, and complimented her appropriately. And all the while, her fingers traced the edges of the rose, keeping the thrill alive.

* * *

The sun was just setting as Dawn started to make her way towards home.

After the mall closed around five, Janice had suggested they take a detour around the park before heading back along the streets. As they wandered along the earthen paths, passing through low-hanging autumn trees and winding around various ponds and hedges, the conversation predominantly revolved around planning the biggest imminent event on the social calendar; Halloween. Though it was still a few weeks away, Janice was breathlessly laying out what she wanted to happen, in particular bragging about the older boys she had snagged on the Sunnydale party circuit, in hopes of a possible after-dark rendezvous. She seemed to be testing Dawn, flashing her looks and signals that were seemingly intended to appraise her interest. As soon as Janice mentioned Justin's name however, Dawn was firmly on board. She didn't know him well. Okay, to be perfectly honest she didn't really know him at all. But their eyes had locked briefly at parties here and there, and she had felt the involuntary flutter in her chest that always followed that initial moment of connection.

However, just as the sky had begun to glow with hints of orange and red, the two girls emerged onto the roads once again. Soon enough, Janice was waving goodbye and turning off down her street, and Dawn was left alone to wander the silent sidewalk, hearing only the sounds of her footsteps on the stone beneath her. As the world around her gradually began to lose the light, Dawn felt a sense of unease creeping up on her. She took a moment to check the sidewalk behind her, releasing a long, calming breath as she saw nothing. Satisfied, she swivelled her head back around only to let out a startled gasp at the dark shape which suddenly loomed above her.

"Spike!?" She questioned breathlessly, as the blond vampire inhaled on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out from between his teeth.

"Shouldn't be wanderin' about this late little bit," he chided her. "Thought you would know better by now…"

"It's a five-minute walk from here Spike," Dawn pointed out, making a show of casually walking past him. "It's not even really dark yet…"

"Sun's low enough," Spike countered, lifting his arms and gesturing towards himself for a moment before turning to follow her. "It's not like you – not lately anyway. Thought the days of you charging straight into danger were behind you? Thought getting caught by the big bad over and over again had lost some of its appeal…"

"Leave me alone Spike…" Dawn demanded, crossing her arms as she continued to walk.

"We've done this dance before Dawn," Spike pointed out, overtaking her before stopping dead in her path, his long leather coat billowing out behind him. He placed two pale hands on her shoulders, his grip only tightening after her attempt to shrug him off.

"Big sis isn't around anymore little bit. So I'm not gonna tarnish her memory by letting the one thing she loved most get the Nobel prize for being a complete moron!"

Dawn's frown just deepened. "Buffy – that's all you see when you look at me, isn't it? You're not trying to protect me – you're just trying to hold on to her!"

Dawn actually felt physically sick, a nausea which came with the reminder of the superior place Buffy had always held in the lives of everyone around her.

Dawn grabbed both of Spike's wrists as if to emphasise the point, just as he finally allowed her to remove them.

"I can't just live my whole life thinking of what Buffy would want – what Buffy would do!"

With that Dawn petulantly stormed home, leaving Spike behind her, watching.

* * *

Once Dawn was safely off to school on Monday morning, Willow sprang into action.

She didn't want Dawn to have to worry about anything surrounding their financial conundrum – she had enough on her plate as it was.

Sitting on the couch beside Buffybot, Willow lifted the shoulder of her flowery white dress, examining the synthetic skin beneath. She ran her finger delicately over the barely visible seams where Willow had transplanted sections from April a few days previously, searching meticulously for flaws or discolouration.

"How's she looking?" Tara asked.

"Not bad," Willow assessed. "And it seems like the chemical dye did what is was supposed to. At worst, someone might think she has a couple scars." Willow lowered her eyes for a moment. "You sure you want to go with that dress Buffy?"

Buffybot nodded vigorously. "It's very pretty. Is it not correct?"

"It'll do fine," Tara assured her, crossing her arms. "Do you want to go and do your hair quickly? It's best if… well if you look your best."

Buffybot rose from the couch, swiftly walking to the stairs before vanishing onto the floor above. Willow watched her go, an almost melancholic expression on her face.

"What's wrong Wil?" Tara asked, clearly picking up on her girlfriend's mannerisms. "You think she should wear something else?"

"It's not that, I'm sure it's smart enough for a loan application. It's just… it's not exactly very 'Buffy', is it?"

"Buffy did own it," Tara pointed out. "But even so; it is very Buffybot, don't you think? All bright and… kinda sweet?"

Willow considered it for a moment. "I don't know. The whole point of having the Buffybot is that she, yknow, acts like Buffy. Not sure how I feel about her suddenly going off-script…"

Tara smiled coyly. "Since when has she _ever_ been on-script?"

"Fair point..." Willow conceded with a small smile. "We got everything?"

Tara held out the document file to her. "We do. She'll do fine Wil. We've explained how important this is."

Willow looked profoundly sceptical, worry blooming in her eyes. "What if they don't even let us in there with her? What if she says something and all of a sudden they're calling round to the school, or telling the authorities Buffy isn't fit to look after Dawn?"

Tara interrupted the building cyclone of panic, pulling Willow in for a quick kiss and placing her warm hands against Willow's flushing cheeks. The rush of feelings her touch brought seemed to pacify the storm of worry in her mind for a moment.

"I just don't think that will happen Wil. And if it does… well, then we'll deal with it. One step at a time, like we always have. We'll be strong."

"Strong like an Amazon?" Willow asked sweetly.

Tara pulled her in for another chaste kiss.

"Absolutely."

* * *

The October sun still shone down with considerable heat as the three women walked into town. Only the slightest edge of chill in the breeze gave away the fact that Summer was behind them.

Tara and Willow walked either side of Buffy as they traversed the criss-cross of sidewalks into the heart of Sunnydale, mostly in order to ensure she didn't suddenly get the urge to wander off. No matter how often she went out during the day, Buffy always seemed to observe the world around her as though she were seeing it for the first time. Birds flying overhead would cause her to stop and turn, passing cars and bikes would catch her eye, and above all she seemed utterly fascinated by people.

Tara found the experience rather surreal, as if suddenly gaining a glimpse into how a parent watches their young child interact with the world. Especially with Willow at her side.

But then again, you didn't usually have to take a toddler to arrange a major financial transaction.

The bank was bristling with activity. Whilst Tara held a few seats in the waiting area, Willow and Buffy joined the queue which snaked throughout the room. Ten minutes passed sluggishly. The growing irritation on Willow's face contrasted sharply with the blind eagerness on Buffybot's. Eventually, they finally let the clerk know 'Buffy Summers' had arrived for her appointment.

* * *

The room to which the lady guided Willow and Buffybot was segregated into several office cubicles, each with a desk and chairs. Between the thin glass partitions, the cubicles were interspersed with more cushy waiting areas. Their escort guided them to one of the desks, motioning for Buffy and Willow to sit and informing them that one of the bank's representatives would be with them shortly. Willow began intertwining her fingers nervously as they waited. After a few moments, Willow noticed that Buffy seemed to be paying particular attention to what she was doing, creasing her brow thoughtfully for a moment before her hands began to imitate her.

"Carl Savitsky, loan officer." the small, balding man introduced himself, entering the cubicle from behind the two girls' chairs.

Willow promptly slapped Buffy's hands apart, as the bank representative confidently sat across the table from them. Buffy's face fell for a moment, before Willow made a show of flashing a quick grin, which Buffy quickly imitated. The large, round glasses the banker wore gave the slightest impression of a peering owl, and his severe black suit and muted red tie contrasted sharply against his attempt at a welcome smile.

Carl flipped open the leather binder on the desk in front of him, flicking through the pages for a moment before bringing his eyes up to the two women.

"Buffy Summers," he stated rhetorically. "That would be…"

"Me!" Buffybot exclaimed excitedly. "And this is Willow."

Carl smiled a little awkwardly, clearly taken aback by the boldness of her response.

"I see," he recovered after a brief moment, placing his interlocked hands on the desk. "Buffy… interesting name. Is that a nickname, or?"

"No," Buffybot pointed out. "Nick is not my name."

Willow started to feel the pangs of dread in her stomach. She was starting to really wish the bank had let Tara come through with them.

Carl let out a single breathy chuckle.

Willow joined him with a small, awkward laugh – gesturing over to Buffybot. "Oh Buffy… you… she's a real kidder this one…"

"I see," Carl answered again, clearly slightly uncomfortable. "This is just for the record you understand - Is Buffy your birth name, or is it short for something?"

Willow's eyes widened slightly.

_Don't improvise Buffy, don't improvise don't…_

"Buffalo." Buffy blurted out tactlessly. "Buffalo Summers."

_Oh God._

Carl's mouth was just hanging slightly open now, his eyes creased.

"Buffy will do fine." He eventually replied, clearing his throat." So… umm… _Miss Summers_, it says here you've never applied for credit before - is that correct?"

After a brief glance from Willow, Buffybot nodded vigorously.

"Excellent. Did you bring the relevant files, some identification?"

Willow passed the document file across the table to Carl. He opened it promptly, pulling out Buffy's national identity card from the top of the pile of papers within, holding it up to the light and squinting briefly at Buffy. Then he nodded once in satisfaction, before beginning to delve through the list of financial records she and Tara had painstakingly put together.

"Ah." Savitsky halted in a worrying tone, raising his eyes to Buffy. "It appears we have… something of a tangle."

Willow began to twiddle her fingers once again. "Well… money's becoming a bit of an issue its true…"

Carl politely held out a hand to stop her. "You misunderstand me, Miss…"

"Rosenburg."

"You misunderstand me Miss Rosenburg," He said, before turning back to Buffy. "You see Miss Summers, the only collateral you have is your house – which has been losing equity over the past several years. For some reason, property values in Sunnydale have never been competitive…"

Willow didn't need to speculate on why that was the case.

"So I'm afraid refinancing just isn't an option."

Willow's heart sank.

"But we need money!" Buffybot insisted.

Carl gritted his teeth, before soldiering on nonetheless. "You see Miss Summers, you have no income. No job…"

"I do!" Buffybot countered self-righteously. "I have a job. I am the-"

The conversation was suddenly halted by an explosion of glass from the edge of the office cubicle, sending sharp fragments flying through the air, flooding the desk and covering Willow, Buffybot and Carl. After instinctually shielding her eyes, Willow looked up to see a horrific demon yelling a guttural war cry, stretching its scaly, muscled arms menacingly into the air, and the unconscious form of a security guard crumpled between the desk and the wall.

To Willow's eye, the creature looked like some sort of monstrous anthropoid shark, viciously sharp uneven yellow teeth bared below beady, vicious eyes. To her credit, Buffybot sprang into action immediately, rushing up to the screeching behemoth and skilfully parrying the first few wild blows the demon launched at her, before landing a few of her own.

The air was filled with frightened screams as Willow crouched down against the wall, reaching out with her mind.

_Tara?_

_I'm here Wil. Security won't let anyone near the back – what's going on in there?_

_Demon attack. Buffybot's on it._

_Do you recognise the species? Any weaknesses?_

_It has kinda bad teeth?_

_Noted. Anything else?_

_Working on it!_

Willow's mental link with her partner was suddenly severed as Buffybot crashed through the desk in front of her. She lay in a wide-eyed daze amongst the wreckage for a moment, her white floral dress now torn and covered in sawdust. Willow then heard the sounds of several wild gunshots, freezing her to the spot for a moment before she peeked through the broken sheet of glass. She caught sight of the rampaging demon charging out of the fire door with one final, defiant roar, leaving devastation in its wake.

"Come back here!" Buffybot demanded indignantly, raising her head from the clutter and debris all around her. "We are not finished!"

Within a minute or so, Carl Savitsky emerged from behind one of the cubicle walls, trepidation heavy in his beady eyes as he ensured the monster was gone. Willow helped Buffy from out of the wreckage of Carl's desk, helping her brush herself down before the robot turned to face the still shaking loan officer.

"I saved you!" She pointed out tactlessly. "You are most welcome. Can I get my money now?"

From the slightly apologetic change in the man's face, Willow immediately knew that it was a vain hope.

* * *

"Well… on the bright side," Tara began brightly, "A loan was only a temporary fix anyway. There are other options."

"Maybe…" Willow pondered, her eyes distant. "Still Tara, after the whole 'saving his life' thing, you'd think he'd make some kind of exception."

"I don't think it works that way Wil," Tara replied apologetically. "I mean, he could have lost his job or something."

Willow shot her a playful look. "Yknow, this is usually the time when we hate him together. It's a best friend thing. Showing a united front of mutual loathing and trying to make me feel better."

Tara smirked back at her. "Not very grown up though, is it sweetie?"

"Don't see why we have to be a grown up all the time…" Willow shot back warmly. "So, anyway I had this idea…"

"mmhmm?"

"Well… we're obviously pretty busy with yknow, the college thing. And the demon fighting thing…"

Tara nodded.

"But Buffybot," Willow added, gesturing to the grinning robot striding several steps ahead of them. "Buffybot doesn't really have anything to do all day – Dawn's at school, we're in classes. Well, what if instead of turning her off we… got her a job."

Willow tensed, expecting a far more shocked reaction than the thoughtful look that passed across Tara's face.

"What would she do?" Tara asked, turning her gaze to follow Buffybot. At the moment, she had halted her slightly stiff march, her attention seemingly entirely enraptured by the sight of a group of small children swarming over a local playground. Buffy looked on, fascinated.

"Well – we'd have to train her up, but maybe… maybe she could clean?" Willow suggested. "Or fix stuff. Or something that involves lifting heavy objects – or maybe professional wrestling!"

Her last jest had the desired effect as Tara chuckled softly.

"What do you think?"

Tara pursed her lips for a moment. "Well… I'm not sure. She's like a kid really – all… bubbly, and fully of energy? Maybe she could work in a nursery or something."

Willow's eyes went wide, her face blanching slightly.

"Are you okay Willow?" Tara asked, her voice clearly showing she had picked up on Willow's reaction.

"Yeah!" Willow assured her unconvincingly. "I mean it's a nice idea Tara… But well – even if Buffybot could be trusted around some very, very fragile kindergartners, to work with little kids they… I mean the company has to do some pretty thorough background checks…"

"Right…" Tara acknowledged, motioning Willow to continue.

"Well... it's just that… at her old school - the one in L.A. – Buffy sort of… burned down the gym."

Tara blinked. "Oh."

"Then she comes to Sunnydale – she ends up missing lots 'o classes, pretty sure she was investigated for murder one time, one summer she just vanishes... and then at the end of three years here, the whole school goes… kaboom."

There was silence between them for a few moments.

"It doesn't look good, does it?" Tara admitted finally, earning a knowing look from Willow.

Tara tried to look optimistic.

"Maybe something else."


	8. Chapter 8: Waiting in the Wings

_**Author's Note: Once again, I can only apologise for the long gap between uploads. The busy nature of life and the cyclical nature of creativity both worked against me on this one. Rest assured, I have no intention of abandoning 'One Girl in all the World', at least until its done. I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to leave a review, as always.**_

* * *

Chapter 8: Waiting in the Wings

In a basement below an ordinary, middle-class home in Sunnydale, three young men were in way over their heads. They were huddled together in a corner, casting furtive glances behind their turned backs to the intimidating figure that had invaded their isolated sanctuary. Across the room from them, the patience of a particular violent Mm'fashnik demon was wearing dangerously thin.

"Are we really gonna kill her?" Jonathan asked. "That's so sad!"

Warren narrowed his eyes scornfully. "Shut up, Whine-athan."

Andrew shifted nervously. "But ... I, I don't want to kill Buffy either."

"Yeah," Jonathan emphatically agreed. "She saved my life a bunch of times! Plus… she's hot."

Andrew firmly nodded his agreement.

Warren remained unmoved. "It's her or us. I mean, we have to do it. "

"We're talking about murder," Andrew pointed out squeamishly.

"No," Warren dismissed callously. "We're talking about staying alive, and since this is my mom's house, I think what I say goes."

The cloak of authority in which Warren had enveloped himself seemed to fall to the floor as he finished that particular sentence.

"But aside from the moral issues, and the mess, we can get in trouble for murder" Andrew insisted, a childlike fear in his naive blue eyes.

"Duh!" Warren scoffed. "You know, the last I checked, the authorities also frowned on bank robbery too. Genius!"

"I don't even know if we could kill Buffy," Jonathan weighed in again. "She's got super-strength. "

Andrew nodded emphatically. "And, you know, killing people… this is not why we got together in the first place."

Jonathan agreed. "Yeah. We teamed up with one clear, super-cool mission statement. Remember?

All three young men stared into space for a moment, almost as if they were re-living a seminal moment in their lives.

"Of course I remember," Warren insisted, snapping them all back to reality. "It was last month."

"Then you know we have a mission!" Jonathan exclaimed, pointing at a whiteboard against the wall in front of them, before beginning to read the agenda aloud. "Shrink rays... trained gorillas. Workable prototype jetpacks... and chicks, chicks, chicks. I know that's the action I signed on for."

"Me too." Andrew added. "Ixnay on the urdermay."

Frustrated, Warren gave in. "Vote!"

"Okay," Jonathan began. "Who's for not killing Buffy?

Andrew and Jonathan immediately thrust their arms into the air, parting their fingers in a Vulcan salute. Eventually, reluctantly, Warren raised his own.

"Agreed." All three called out in unison.

"So what are we gonna do about this Mm'Fashnik guy?"

A glimmer of cunning came into Warren's dark eyes. "Ah, wait here. Okay, I got an idea."

The two underlings watched in utter disbelief as their leader fearlessly rushed up to the Demon, put an arm around its enormous scaled shoulders, and whispered something in its ear. The next thing they knew, the Demon seemed to grunt in agreement, before vanishing towards the exit stairs – which creaked burdensomely as he ascended into the late afternoon.

Andrew and Jonathan merely continued to stare at Warren in breathless amazement as he swaggered over to them once again.

Jonathan struggled to find his voice. "How'd you make him do that?"

"What are you, some kind of... Jedi?" Andrew asked foolishly.

Warren eagerly lapped up the sycophantic awe in their faces. "The Force can sometimes have great power on the weak-minded…"

"Huh…" Andrew murmured thoughtfully, staring off into the distance – or rather as it turned out, staring blankly at an unoffending garden rake hanging off the basement wall about five metres hence.

Jonathan seemed to find equal solace in the air conditioning unit.

* * *

Dawn strode back into the Summers' residence in a state of triumph.

She had done it – amidst a Scooby gang which had been researching demons for years, she had been the one to identify the mysterious Mm'fashnik demon. Well, a lot less mysterious now she knew what it was. The Mm'fashnik - not the Muh'fashnik thank you Xander – as it happens was little more than a demon for hire, causing chaos, murder and mayhem for a quick buck. Figures.

She wasn't exactly hoping that the appearance of this enormous humanoid reptile was hearkening an oncoming apocalypse – okay, maybe a little – but only so she could show the gang that she could play her part - a part just as important or special as any one of them.

Willow closed the door behind them, whilst Tara headed for the kitchen, doubtless to start preparing one of her now traditional evening meals. It made Dawn smile to see how much genuine joy Tara seemed to get out of what Dawn had always seen as a tedious chore. Thinking back – perhaps it wasn't so surprising. Dawn had found out first-hand what kind of family Tara had come from, and afterwards it wasn't hard to put together why she was so quiet, why she stuttered, and sometimes seemed to make herself invisible during her first few months with Willow. But now she had a family she chose, and that had chosen and embraced her in return. Tara didn't hide anymore.

At that, maybe Dawn would help make dinner tonight.

She had just turned the corner into the dining room when she heard the cry.

"WILLOW!"

Dawn froze, unable to move for a moment as she began to hear a series of violent crashes, emphasised by the smashing of glass. She screamed as she saw Tara crash against the doorframe in front of her, her head thumping soundly against the wood. Dawn could only watch in horror, unable to move. A massive figure loomed into her line of sight, covered in scaley skin of a dark turquoise. It looked as though it had be stuffed insight its tight leather jacket and pants, seemingly imitating a standard 'tough-guy' image.

"You are NOT the Slayer! Where is she!?" The Mm'fashnik roared, ripping a long knife from the nearest kitchen surface before catching sight of Dawn.

Then Willow was there, grabbing Dawn by the sleeve of her shirt and pulling her away.

"Dawn, get upstairs – now!"

Dawn didn't even think to question it. She ran. There wasn't room for any other thought in her head besides the demanding terror. Dawn didn't even remember climbing the stairs, only realising after she plunged through the door, tripping over her own feet, that the bedroom wasn't her own.

Dawn reached for the bed, gripping a fistful of the covers and trying to wrench herself up, succeeding only in pulling them onto her. She could still hear the demon's battle cries as she finally emerged shaking onto the bed, grabbing the arms of the still, silent figure lying dormant before her.

"Buffy," Dawn sobbed. "Buffy we need you – wake up, please wake up!"

Buffy was silent.

Dawn tried shaking her sister, trying to set off her detectors or whatever it was she had.

Buffy was still.

Hyperventilating with panic, Dawn scrunched her eyes shut, trying to regain control of her breathing – trying to think.

She caught sight of Buffy's power cable lying beside the bed, and something finally clicked in Dawn's head. She fumbled with the bottom of Buffy's top, pulling it over her stomach and feeling for the access switch. The layers of surface skin peeled away, revealing Buffy's power and access ports and… nothing. Just a few blinking lights, tiny screw-holes and other components Dawn couldn't begin to fathom.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Each one louder, each one closer.

Dawn exhaled sharply, her head snapping around to the still open door.

_Oh God._

_No Dawn, _A reassuring voice echoed in her mind._ You can do this. Focus, remember. How did Willow reactivate her after finishing her repairs – at Spike's, you were right there with her!_

Regaining her focus, Dawn reached for Buffy's neck, slipping a trembling hand beneath her golden hair. She ran her fingers around the top of her neck, searching for the mechanism she remembered Willow activating. As a large shadow passed into the hallway, Dawn felt the skin give way beneath her touch.

Buffy's eyes opened.

"Dawn?" She asked curiously, causing Dawn to let out a sob of utter relief. She immediately tried to pull Buffy to her feet, pulling her towards the end of the bed. After a moment of apparent confusion, Buffy allowed her sister to yank her to her feet.

"Buffy, Its Tara, she's…" Dawn started to explain, just as a hulking figure filled the doorway.

"You!" Buffy exclaimed, clearly recognising the creature. Buffy turned back to Dawn for a moment. "Stay behind me."

For a moment, Dawn forgot that it wasn't really her.

"Slayer… Finally!" The demon practically shouted, raising both of its enormous arms before slamming them downwards towards where Buffy was stood. Buffy neatly side-stepped the blow at the last moment, moving to her left and carefully manoeuvring Dawn behind her.

The bed was not so fortunate. The two nearest legs promptly collapsed under the primal force of the Mm'fashnik's blows, the cushions and covers collapsing into a chaotic heap.

In the brief moment the demon was unbalanced from the force of his strike, Buffy aimed a kick towards his scaly neck, knocking him into the wall opposite. The plaster cracked under the force, and dust erupted over its head.

The monster seemed to explode with rage, letting out a primeval shriek and launching at Buffy once again. Dawn had no chance to escape through the door, the two fighters were rapidly exchanging blows that Dawn was sure could shatter any bone in her body if she got too close.

Dawn dropped to the floor, crawling into the small space remaining under the half-collapsed bed. She watched the duel in fragmented moments, catching small snippets whenever she moved her head out slightly from under the bed. After what couldn't have been more than a minute however, the sounds of struggle seemed to move further and further away, and out of the room.

Dawn took her chance.

She pulled herself out from under the bed, shadowing the wall to the doorway. After ensuring the coast was clear, Dawn sprinted into the hallway, passing behind the Mm'fashnik which was still furiously attacking Buffy with blows and slashes in the hallway. She all but threw herself down the stairs, charging headlong into the dining room, where everything had begun.

Beside the corner of the flipped and wrecked dining table, Willow was on her knees, hunched over with her red hair strewn over her face. After a moment, Dawn could see she was bleeding from a wound on her head, continuously trying and failing to grab onto the table and lift her own body from the dining room floor. Tara wasn't moving at all, still slumped against the entrance to the kitchen. Her heart feeling as though it were about to burst through her chest, Dawn ripped the phone from its rest, quickly speed dialling the number she needed.

"Hello?"

"Xander, we need you here – now!" Dawn shouted, desperately wanting him to hurry.

"Dawn?" Xander asked, clearly taken aback by her panic. "Cool it a sec, what's happening?"

"There's no time!" Dawn insisted. "The Mm'fashnik is here! Willow and Tara are…. please just hurry!"

"We'll be right there. Just get somewhere safe, okay Dawnster?!"

Dawn just nodded, too frazzled even to note before she had put the phone down that there was no way Xander could have seen it.

She crossed the room to Tara, bending down and gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Tara? Tara are you okay?"

Tara didn't respond. Dawn placed two fingers on Tara's wrist, whilst watching for her breathing. She was relieved to see her chest slowly rise and fall, and feel a steady pulse beneath Tara's skin. For the first time, Dawn was grateful for the dull first aid course she and her class had been forced to sit through last Spring. Still, considering the force with which Tara had hit her head, Dawn didn't want to risk moving her into the recovery position.

Instead, Dawn moved on to the dining room. Willow's condition hadn't changed, her hand still struggling to grip onto the fallen table. For the first time, Dawn noticed the kitchen knife jutting out of one of the walls, and the red drops of blood on the wooden floor beside Willow, forming small streams as they came together.

Dawn put an arm around the older girl, helping her up onto unsteady feet.

"Can you walk?" Dawn asked her, trying her best to support Willow.

"Tara…" Willow whispered in a pained voice, placing her right hand over a bleeding thigh.

"She's unconscious," Dawn explained. "But she's okay – at least I think so. She's breathing." Dawn hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

"Where… where's the demon?" Willow asked, seemingly trying to regain her focus.

"Upstairs – Buffy's fighting him. Xander's on his way."

"Help me to the kitchen," Willow told her, clearing the hair from her face with her arm. As she did so, Dawn noticed the nasty cuts which had torn her sleeve open.

Dawn did as she asked, as the sounds of breaking wood and cracking plaster filled the house.

"Dawny, there's a first aid kit in the cabinet," Willow explained as Dawn lowered her to the ground beside Tara. "Just above the refrigerator. Can you grab it for me?"

Once again, Dawn complied, lifting the surprisingly heavy black box out of the cupboard and placing it beside Willow.

Willow was already tending to Tara, gently moving her hair from around the area where her head had collided with the doorframe. "Tara, baby – can you hear me?"

"Shouldn't we try to help Buffy somehow?"

Willow looked at Dawn for a moment, shaking her head. "She's doing her job Dawn. It's my fault – I shouldn't have shut her down while that thing was still loose. When Xander gets here – we can get Tara out of the house – we need to get her to a hospital."

"I could call 911?"

Willow shook her head again. "We'd just be putting them in danger."

Unable to just wait there with the battle raging above them, Dawn rushed into the living room through the side-door, stopping only to prise open the chest of weapons behind the nearest armchair. Just then, she heard a cacophonous racket booming from the stairs. Dawn pulled the nearest sword from the box, grabbing the hilt with both hands

Her heart seemed to stop for a moment as the Mm'fashnik demon stumbled into the room, seemingly pushing itself to its feet after a fall. Dark, green blood was dripping from its shoulder and cheek, and the snarl it unleashed as it saw Dawn was as much hungry as it was furious.

Dawn held the sword out in front of her, begging herself to be brave. As the creature began to limp towards her with clawed hands outstretched, she raised the sword above her head, letting out an involuntary sob as the monster bore down on her, her death in its eyes.

Then, with a sharp crack, the Mm'fashnik fell to the floor, landing only inches from Dawn's feet. Behind the demon, Buffy was revealed, her favourite patrolling outfit grievously torn, and her hair entirely awry. In her hands was the designer lamp from beside the couch. Dawn dropped the sword, backing away as the dam of stress and fear was released. Buffy grabbed the sword from the ground, quickly raising it and thrusting with a downwards strike into the demon's back. The enormous form twitched for a moment, finally ceasing when Buffy twisted the blade, leaving it protruding from his back like a burial cross.

Dawn ran to her sister, wrapping her arms around her and holding on to her as if for dear life as she finally allowed herself to cry.

Buffy lifted one arm in a single, stiff movement, before carefully moving her hand to hold the back of Dawn's head, holding her sister as she gently wept against Buffy's chest.

* * *

"I think we have a lot to feel good about." Warren announced, strutting triumphantly around his newly furnished domain.

Andrew was currently gazing into a periscope which appeared to have come straight from a Soviet submarine, whilst Jonathan was delicately arranging some models of various shapes and sizes in a brand-new display case.

"We got the money," Warren continued, "We got the lair. And our one loose end has been taken care of…" He paused dramatically to lift an enormous, seemingly home-made firearm from the floor, "By the Slayer."

A jet of turbulent flame burst out of the tip, neatly emphasising his point and nearly singeing the carpet. "Flamethrower's up."

"Periscope's working," Andrew announced, turning the metal shaft around, which moved the image on the large television screen behind him. At the same moment, Jonathan respectfully closed the display case.

"It looks like your mom's weeding tulips again," Andrew continued to report.

"Action figures - Fully deployed," Jonathan proclaimed, a sense of badass pride on his face.

"I still can't believe it," Andrew said, leaving the periscope and taking a seat on a luxurious armchair. "We did it! We can do anything. We could stay up all night if we wanna!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa don't get all crazy on us, Andrew." Warren snarked, raising his arms sarcastically.

"I was only saying…" Andrew pouted, somehow oblivious to his friend's dripping sarcasm.

Jonathan's expression was touched with uncertainty. "What are we gonna do about Buffy? You know sooner or later, the Slayer's gotta come after us."

"Bring her on…" Andrew replied brazenly.

"We could, uh, we could hypnotize her," Warren suggested.

"Make her our willing sex bunny…" Andrew added.

At that, all three started to chortle adolescently.

"I'm putting that on the list!" Jonathan informed them, rushing over to the whiteboard and beginning to scrawl the words 'hypnotize Buffy' above every other item on the list.

Andrew looked over to Warren sat beside him, a look of utter contentment on his face.

"Is this the life or what?


	9. Chapter 9: Picking up the Pieces

_Author's Note: And the story continues. Thank you for your patience once again, glad I managed to get this one out before too long. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter 9: Picking up the Pieces

Xander examined the fractured remnants of the Summers' back door, trying with fading hope to see if there was any chance at saving it.

"So?" Willow asked, shouting from the living room. "How's it looking back there?"

Xander let the broken pieces drop, holding his arms up in surrender. "Not good Wil. Door's busted too."

"Alrighty… I'll put it on the list!" Willow replied with bubbly, if slightly inappropriate enthusiasm. Xander knew his best friend well enough to know that her demeanour was just an attempt to deflect the worry underneath. Leaving the mess of broken wood for the moment, Xander crossed into the living room, lowering himself slowly onto the couch beside Willow. She was sat with her injured leg stretched out onto a footrest in front of her, a pen and notebook in hand. He closed his eyes and let his slightly aching arms finally relax.

With Tara in hospital overnight for observation, Dawn at school, and Anya vigilantly bullying customers into spending money at the Magic Box, Xander was left to execute operation clean-up at the Summers' house. He was fortunate at least that the 'family emergency' card still seemed to hold weight in the construction trade.

He was only allowed to wallow for a handful of seconds however, before his thoughts were promptly interrupted.

"How long now?" Willow asked impatiently.

Xander opened one eye, glancing down at his watch with a good-natured smile. Eleven-seventeen AM. Nearly the end of a particularly long morning.

"Three hours and forty-three minutes Wil. Twenty minutes since the last time you asked…"

"I know, I know – I'm being all… bother-y lady," Willow admitted. "But it's-"

"I know Wil," Xander reassured her. "If it was you, or Anya or Buf-"

Xander paused for a moment, feeling emotions he had tried to keep buried rising to the surface. "I get it Wil. But Tara will be home soon enough. You've just gotta be patient for a little longer."

Willow nodded with a smile, though her eyes fixed on Xander thoughtfully.

"Are you doin' okay?"

Xander blinked, unprepared to have the conversation turned on his head. "I'm fine Wil, just a little tired from all the macho-lifting I've been doing for my favourite damsels in distress…"

Xander grinned, though Willow didn't buy it, refusing to even crack a smile. "That's not what I meant Xander."

"Then what?" Xander asked innocently, letting out a chuckle. After a few moments of looking at Willow however, his jovial demeanour began to fade, and Xander was quiet.

"It's still pretty hard to believe she's gone," he admitted finally. "Even after it happened, as soon as you and Tara said you thought we could bring her back... it just clicked in my head. It was gonna be okay. Buffy was gonna be okay. All those times she saved my life, our lives – the world. Just thought I could give her that much."

Willow nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Xander could feel the same tingling in his own.

"I know.. Xander… I'm so sorry I couldn't…"

Xander put a hand on Willow's shoulder, before pulling her into a gentle embrace. "You did more than the rest of us ever could. I just miss her so much Wil."

Willow planted her chin on Xander's shoulder. "Me too."

They both stayed like that for a few moments, neither feeling the need to speak.

"It's just hard, yknow?" Xander said eventually, extricating himself slightly from the embrace. "Seeing things like this happen to you and Tara, knowing there's nothing I can do."

"I wouldn't call what you're doing nothing Xander," Willow pointed out.

"You know what I mean. This place is a demon magnet Wil. Trust me, I know what that's like. And this time there isn't a slayer waiting to kick them out on their asses on the other side of the door. What happens next time?"

"There won't be a next time," Willow assured him. "I've already started looking into some extra protective charms for the house, and I won't make the mistakes of tucking Buffybot in for her powernap while there are feral rage monsters on the loose..."

Xander couldn't help but smile at that.

"We were always gonna make mistakes Xander," Willow insisted, taking his hand in hers. "Remember how long it took for us to get patrolling to work?"

"Who could forget," Xander replied with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye. "There were times when I looked at Spike and I swear I could see this look in his eyes, like he was weighing up whether trying to kill us might be worth it after all."

"I think I remember Giles having the same idea..." Willow added comically. "But we got it right in the end, didn't we?"

"Yeah," Xander acknowledged, feeling a wave of gratitude for having Willow in his life. "Yeah I guess we did."

"So, how long now?"

Xander couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Tara blinked her eyes open, recoiling slightly from the sunlight shining through the blinds and into the room. The unfamiliar room. She was on a raised, slender bed at its centre. To her right, a large window took up almost the entirety of the wall length, to her left there was an open door. Through it, Tara could see it appeared to open out onto a wide corridor.

"Ah," a female voice sounded, alongside the clicking of hard shoes coming into the room. "You're awake. Good morning Miss Maclay."

"Where…" Tara said sleepily, trying to recall her most recent memories. They seemed hazy somehow, all blurred in her mind.

"You're in one of the inpatient wards in Sunnydale General. Don't worry, everything's alright. How are you feeling?"

"My head," Tara responded. "It's a little fuzzy. And the light, it's…"

Before Tara could so much as reach the end of her sentence, the nurse crossed the room and precisely adjusted the blinds. The sharp daggers of light no longer bore into her eyes, and Tara felt her body relax in relief.

"Better?" The Nurse inquired, and Tara nodded, rather regretting it after it worsened a certain continuous dull sensation in the back of her head.

After a few moments it began to fade, and Tara tried playing back the images in her head again. The scoobies were doing research at the magic box. They had said goodbye to Xander and Anya, walked home with Dawn and then…

The Mm'fashnik.

Tara had seen it about to burst through the back door, she had called for Willow and then… darkness.

"Now, it's perfectly alright if you'd like some time by yourself to recover." The nurse explained kindly. "However, I believe your… girlfriend?" She queried, before Tara nodded. "Would like to see you when you feel up to it. Apparently, the poor thing has been sat awake in the nearest waiting room all night."

_Oh Willow…_ Tara thought, both touched by her dedication and wishing she hadn't put herself through something like that on her behalf.

"It's alright," Tara informed her patiently. "I think I'd like to see her now. Let her know I'm okay."

"That might be a good idea," The nurse concurred with a small smile. "According to my colleagues, she's been asking about you almost constantly."

Tara watched as the nurse left the room, the clacking of her shoes on the hard hospital floor getting further and further away. She could make out words being spoken, though distantly. "Yes, she's awake. Yes, she wants to see you."

Tara smiled, in part from anticipation, and partly wanting to give the most positive impression she could. The last thing she wanted was Willow to worry more than she doubtlessly already was. Tara was just about to greet her partner when an unexpected flash of golden hair appeared in the doorway.

Buffybot rushed into the room with her usual innocent grin, clasping an excessively large bouquet of red, blue and golden flowers in both hands. Before Tara could properly react, Buffy practically dropped them into Tara's lap. Without a moment's hesitation, the robot grabbed one of the small plastic chairs from its position by the wall, and pulled it closed to the bed, taking a seat.

"Buffy?" Tara asked as Buffy sat down, unable to hide her surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"You were damaged!" Buffy blurted out. "I wanted to be here when they fixed you."

The nurse raised an eyebrow at Buffy's choice of words, a bewildered smile appearing on her face. "I'll... leave you two alone. Just press the button beside you if you need anything."

Tara nodded, giving her best attempt at a reassuring smile as the Nurse backed out of the door, closing it behind her.

"You brought me flowers?" Tara asked sheepishly, as she examined the bouquet.

"Yes." Buffy explained, clearly very pleased with herself. "Flowers make people happy. I saw you and Willow give each other flowers, and you seemed to enjoy them very much!"

Tara smiled kindly at Buffy. It was impossible for her not to find her intentions somewhat hopelessly endearing. "You know... I do. Thank you, Buffy. This was very thoughtful of you. I'll be sure to put these in some water when we get home."

Buffy nodded emphatically. "The nurse said the doctor wanted to speak to you very soon. Then we can go home."

That was good news.

"Though she says I will have to look after you for a few days. I am looking forward to it. I can make breakfast!"

_Oh. Oh my._

"I wouldn't worry about that too much..." Tara suggested gently. "I'm sure Willow and Dawn can keep on top of it..."

"Are you sure? She was very specific."

"Buffy, I think she meant that..." Tara paused, seeing the naïve wide eyes looking back at her. Maybe giving her a little responsibility wouldn't hurt. "You know what? Breakfast sounds nice. With... some supervision."

* * *

The Scooby gang sat around the dinner table, basking in the warmth of evening light and conversation. The mark left on the house by its recent invader had all but been washed away in most places. Xander had even manage to save the original table in question, one of a number of small victories he tried to celebrate amidst the disasters.

"You let Buffybot cook?" Xander asked Willow in slight disbelief. "Buffybot? The robot Buffy..."

Dawn frowned slightly at Xander. "What's so wrong with that?"

"Oh nothing much..." Xander replied with a wave. "Though our Buffybot is big with the whole big demon smackdown – not so much with the fine motor skills and gentle tender touch."

"She gets there in the end," Willow informed him with a small smile. "Just needs someone to really drive the message home."

Xander twitched his eyebrows knowingly. "Anyway Wil – how'd it go with the warding re-"

Xander was interrupted as Buffybot promptly entered from the kitchen. Between two oversized oven gloves she carried a large Pyrex roasting dish, full to bursting with the fruit of a few hours' labour.

"Whatcha got there Buff?" Xander asked with clear enthusiasm, his cynicism apparently erased by the promising aroma of food.

"Dinner!" Buffy happily proclaimed, plopping the dish onto the table with a little more force than necessary. "I made it. It is called 'lasagne'."

She smiled at each of the five scoobies at the table, rotating her head from one to the other in several, stiff movements, practically swelling with pride before vanishing back into the kitchen. Dawn rose from her chair, moving to follow her with a sheepish expression.

"We dug up one of Joyce's old cookbooks," Willow explained softly. "It seemed a fairly straightforward place to start."

"You could have started her out on the toaster..." Anya suggested dryly, curling a lock of her pale blonde hair around her finger and sipping gingerly at her glass of wine.

In the meantime, Xander was sure to cast an appraising eye at the food in front of him, eyeing the lasagne carefully. Well, it wasn't black. That was a good start. It was still inside the container, so that too was a bonus. Lots of it too – always good news. Buffybot had gone a little heavy on the cheese – but that wasn't exactly a crime, not by his standards anyway. It certainly smelled edible.

Within a few moments, Dawn was spreading bowls out at the table, and Buffybot held a ladle threateningly over the mass of cheesy goodness.

Xander could not help but feel a slight pang as Buffy first reached for Tara's bowl, his eyes widening in a combination of delight and surprise at the enormous portion Buffy scooped from the dish. Willow shot him a slightly resigned smile, and Dawn had a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Say, think you've given her enough there Buff?" Xander jested.

Buffybot clearly didn't pick up on his sarcasm. Instead, a look of worry crossed her face, reaching for Tara's bowl once again before she stopped her with a hand on Buffy's wrist.

"Umm, that's fine Buffy. Xander's teasing you."

"Oh," Buffy acknowledged, letting out a rather canned laugh before retracting her hand and proceeding to fill the next bowl. Dawn's bowl. Xander could feel his stomach complaining, every moment worse than the last. His eagle eye couldn't help but note Dawn's portion was a little less than what Buffybot had given Tara, so he hoped it wouldn't be a continuing trend.

After an eternity of less than a minute, Xander finally received his bowl. It wasn't quite Tara's mountain, but it was still what he would term a respectable, manly portion.

Without pause, Xander lifted his cutlery, expertly quartered a likely mouthful, and thrust it into his mouth without hesitation.

"Mmm." He moaned, finding his eyes closing on their own. When Xander opened them again, he saw Buffybot standing in the corner nearest the kitchen, carefully watching each of the scoobies as they ate, anticipation clear on her face. When her gaze fell on him, Xander smiled. "You did good Buff. Italy-tastic."

Her delight was about as subtle as an angry Fyarl demon.

"You know, she may as well sit down…" Anya remarked, nonchalantly picking at her food. "It's a little disconcerting having her stand there like that."

Perhaps instinctually by this point, Buffybot looked to Willow for approval.

Willow waved out a nonchalant arm. "Sure Buffy, go ahead."

On the opposite side of the table, Dawn pulled out the chair beside her, motioning for Buffy to sit.

A strange look crossed the robot's face, before walking towards the chair and carefully sitting herself down.

"You want some?" Dawn asked, gesturing towards the ladle still hanging in the dish. "Can you eat?"

Buffy opened her mouth automatically in response, but paused. Instead, she turned to Willow with a frown and a question on her lips.

"Nuh uh," Willow answered the robot, before turning to address Dawn. "She can handle liquids – but thick pasta is a big no-no."

"There's a few things we need to talk about," Willow addressed the Scoobies, changing the subject. "Anya, you remember what you told us about the money situation?"

"Uh huh," Anya replied. "You've got a couple months before being packed off to the workhouse. Wait, do we still have those?"

"I'm pretty sure we never had those," Xander pointed out.

"It's... that bad?" Dawn asked quietly, causing the young adults around the table to glance guiltily at one another.

"How come nobody said anything?"

"It's no big, Dawny." Willow tried to assure her. "We're gonna sort it all out."

"We didn't want to worry you Dawn," Tara added. "It really shouldn't be your problem, not on top of everything else."

"You don't have to sit here while we talk it over," Willow offered. "You and Buffy can go upstairs if you want?"

"No," Dawn decided, putting on one of her classic 'adult' faces, raising her eyebrows slightly and stiffening her posture. "I want to stay."

Willow looked a little uncomfortable, though Tara smiled, placing a hand for a moment on Dawn's arm.

"Willow and I did a tally this morning," Xander explained, scratching the back of his head. "The house needs a lot of work. Back door is busted, pretty much every wall needs some replastering – the upstairs bannister is toast – and so on. Look, I know a few people, I can try and get you a good price – but it's not looking good. And… I know its not your fault Tara – but ambulance and hospital bills…" Xander spread his hands.

"Maybe we could all try put some money together?" Tara suggested. "Put the money into a joint account for when we need it. It wouldn't be for bills, or groceries or anything. Just… things like this."

"You're suggesting we start a demon pension?" Anya questioned, crossing her arms.

"Well, that's not exactly what I would call it," Tara replied patiently.

"It's not such a bad idea Ann," Xander countered, placing a hand on Anya's shoulder. "This place still attracts trouble a lot more than our place. It's only fair."

Anya pouted. "I don't like it – sharing our hard-earned cash. It's almost like communism..."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Okay then, let's vote. Demon pension – yay or nay? Those in favour..."

Willow and Tara raised their hands in near-perfect unison, and Xander followed close behind. Anya continued to pout for a moment, before Dawn surreptitiously added her hand to the count.

"Not you Dawny," Willow scolded her gently.

"What, I don't have rights now?" Dawn remarked dryly, folding her arms.

"This is America Dawn," Anya shot back haughtily, placing another forkful of lasagne into her mouth. "You have to pay for your rights like everybody else."

With a roll of her eyes, Dawn lowered her arm, before looking over to her robotic sister and pulling hers down too.

All eyes were on Anya as she pouted.

It was Tara who finally offered her an olive branch. "You could manage the account – you know, if you wanted?"

Anya seemed to consider this for a moment, before tentatively raising her arm. "Eugh, fine. But there's still a problem with all this."

"Please, enlighten us…" Xander replied with false grandiosity.

Anya leaned forward, looking past Xander until she was facing Willow. "You and Tara don't make any money. You spend money that isn't yours so you can go to class all day. It's stupid."

Xander could only bite his tongue as Anya continued to deftly slice through the conversation with characteristic empathy.

"Tara and I have talked it over," Willow replied, gesturing to her girlfriend for a moment. "We don't exactly have a lot of time left between classes and scooby stuff... but there's another option."

Xander took a quick gulp of water. "What's that Wil?"

"We... try to get Buffybot a job."

There was silence for a moment, before Xander burst out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Think about it," Willow implored. "Before we just shut her down any time we weren't patrolling or bringing her out somewhere for Dawn. Kind of a waste, don't ya think? Her battery can last a couple days – if we really need it."

"And it would look good for Dawn," Tara added. "Buffy was pretty young as it was to be Dawn's guardian – and it would look better if she was employed, if anyone came to check on her."

"Alright," Xander conceded. "There's a couple of plusses. But where do you intend to start?"

Xander looked to Tara and Willow for an answer, but none was forthcoming. Xander gulped with growing horror as they both held his gaze expectantly.

Xander lifted his hands from the table. "Wait a minute..."

"C'mon Xander..." Willow asked, putting on one of her irresistibly adorable pouts.

"Hey, I said wait a minute! Look, I've got a few connections at the site. I could probably pull some strings – but I don't think you get it."

"How do you mean?" Dawn asked. "Sounds perfect."

Xander pointed at Dawn. "You'd think so, but what happens if something goes wrong? Horribly, horribly wrong? Suddenly that's all on the Xan-man – and I can kiss any chance at a promotion, and any future favours goodbye."

"It's a fair point," Anya added. "What if she can't actually handle a job? She's not that little trash can from Star Wars. She's a sex robot. Well, actually I guess she could…"

"Anya!" Xander cut her off, seeing Dawn's eyes widen and her cheeks start to turn red.

"Absolutely not," Tara added firmly.

"It was just a suggestion…" Anya deflected with a twirl of her fork.

"A bad one," Willow retorted, shooting Dawn a concerned look.

Dawn kept her eyes cast downwards for a few seconds, before getting to her feet. She stood up, taking Buffybot by the hand. "Buffy, would you come with me a sec?"

Xander watched as Dawn led the robot out of the room and up the stairs. None of the remaining scoobies said anything, just watched the fifteen-year-old walk away with silent sympathy.

* * *

Dawn ran a hand through Buffy's golden hair as they sat together, the younger girl gently placing a lock between finger and thumb beside her sister's temple, running it down to the slightly curved ends.

As she did so, Dawn felt a flurry of impossible emotions stirring in her chest. As she looked at the perfect replica of Buffy's face, she saw countless memories which stretched back a lifetime. Except they didn't. Dawn had only existed as the girl she was now for little over a year. That sickening, horrifying knowledge had nearly torn her apart, knowing her entire life was a meticulously constructed lie. Her sister had brought her back from the brink, telling her she had Summers' blood in her veins – that the monks had made Dawn out of her. But not this Buffy. Her mother was gone, her big sister was gone, and now all she had was her surrogate family, and a robot that hadn't even been around as long as she had.

"Why are you doing that?" Buffy asked.

Dawn stopped her hand in mid-air. "Oh... Does it bother you?"

"No," Buffy stated plainly. "I just wanted to understand."

Dawn cast her eyes downwards for a moment, a sad smile touching her lips. "Buffy – I mean, the other Buffy, she used to do that sometimes. When we weren't fighting, or screaming at each other."

A perplexed look appeared on Buffy's face. "Why would you fight? You and the other Buffy were sisters."

"Yeah, and sisters argue – a lot."

Buffy looked at Dawn uncomprehendingly. "I don't understand. Why would you want to hurt each other? Sister's love each other. It's a rule."

"We didn't mean it like that," Dawn explained. "Most of the time. But sometimes, I think part of loving someone is knowing you can hurt them more easily than anyone else."

Buffy seemed to think it over. "That is most confusing."

Dawn took a breath. "Life usually is Buffy."

Yet now the real Buffy was gone, it wasn't the fights, the arguments, or even the cold war of clothing thefts that sprang to mind whenever Dawn thought of her sister. It was the quiet, intimate moments. Moments when neither of them had to hide their feelings with words, but could convey what they really felt in a simple glance, or the smallest of gestures.

Dawn felt a pair of fingers running through her hair.

She looked up in surprise to see Buffybot smiling at her, and all of a sudden the claws of melancholy no longer seemed to clench her quite so tightly in its grasp. Dawn moved further onto the bed, curling her legs up behind her and leaning against Buffy's shoulder.

"Did Anya upset you earlier?" Buffy asked after a few moments had passed. "You didn't finish your lasagne."

"A little," Dawn admitted. "What she was saying... it wasn't appropriate."

"What wasn't?"

Dawn sat up. "Pimping out my sister to make money. It's... disrespectful."

Buffy smiled briefly at the word 'sister', before her pensive expression returned.

"Does that mean sex is wrong?"

"Well..." Dawn started, not really prepared for where this conversation was heading. "Not always. If you love someone – then it's okay. As long as you want to. Umm... I really think maybe you should ask someone else about that."

Dawn's head turned towards the door as she heard a muffled knocking.

"Dawn?" A gentle voice called out from the other side of the door.

"Come in," Dawn invited, and before long Tara appeared behind the door, opening it just enough so that she could slip inside and close the door behind her.

"Xander and Anya have headed home," Tara explained, twiddling her fingers in front of her. "I just wanted to see if everything was alright?"

Dawn looked at Buffy for a moment, forcing herself to smile.

"Yeah." She replied in a slightly hollow voice. "We're okay."


End file.
